


reminiscentia

by indomiiac



Series: The Unfortunate Case of an Insomniac [4]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Amnesiac Scrooge McDuck, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comic: The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, Ducktales AU, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insomniac Scrooge McDuck, Scrooge has amnesia, Solving Mysteries and Rewriting History (Ducktales 2017), Swearing, huey and donald are becoming more alike, inaccurate amnesia, post shadow war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indomiiac/pseuds/indomiiac
Summary: The Richest Duck in the World, somebody who can't face himself as a has-been for a couple of decades now, suddenly wakes up in a situation where he doesn't remember who he is anymore. In this tale, he isn't out there doing some amazing adventure of a lifetime, but it's about Scrooge trying to learn and know more about his family and himself. The Miser, who seemed so broken even before he lost it all, is being put back together, not by himself but by his family too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly didn't think I'd actually go my way to make a fic about this idea- (whiCH COINCIDENTALLY WAS A SHITPOST) of mine, especially for my Scrooge that I was writing about. So I might as well set sail for this adventure. Please bear with me,, ily all. Hope you enjoy the fic :)

                                                                          

 

White lights.

Ambulance sirens at the distance.

Feeling & not feeling anything.

Slipping in and out of consciousness.

Along with a cluster of familiar and unfamiliar voices.

 

He awoke, facing the lights, and a ceiling unknown to him. Tubes were injected in his body, and his rugged feathers still left a faint scent of blood, leaving an almost visible stain on his white feathers. The duck continued to observe the room he was occupying, but it made it difficult to keep his mouth shut in every movement he made, as his body screamed in excruciating pain. It seems that he has multiple injuries: a broken right wing, a sprained ankle, bruises all over his body, and stabbing pain in the lower left chest area. It didn’t help when the monitors around his bed whirred irritating noises of fans, and its wires attached to several parts of his body.

How did he even get here?

How did he get so hurt?

 

His head started hurting. He turned to look for answers, and all he saw were four ducklings. One in red, blue, green, and pink, all asleep, along with a grown duck wearing a familiar sailor outfit. It felt like these were… these are his kin, right? If they’re here, they have to be. These people present in his room are important. It felt like that.

 

**Then why can’t he remember their names?**

 

Ok. Maybe he should try to think harder. Maybe remember something about them. So he tried over and over and over, but it just led to the same end.

His mind was just blank. Static. Empty.

He knew he held these people dear to him, but he simply didn’t know who they are.

 

He needs to remember something.

 

There HAS to be something.

 

Just anything.

Even just a little.

 

The more he wanted— needed to remember, his head plunged into a discord of frustration and desolation.

 

**Who…?**

**Who was he?**

 

His chest tightened, making it harder to breathe and to think clearly, causing the old man to hyperventilate.

His vision blurred, honestly he had really bad eyesight, and that wasn’t helping at all. He needs to calm down before he wakes his family up to confront him but, alas it happens—

 

“Uncle Scrooge?”

It was the blue one. Awake, and his eyes filled with wonder, and concern. Coming closer to the left side of his bed. It appeared that in situations he didn’t want to be seen, or didn’t want to happen. Scrooge can tell… somehow it’s always the blue one. Somehow.

“L-lad Ah’m—“ He paused, gasping for air. “Ah’m—fine.” He turned away, feeling a certain deja vu of this situation.

The blue one was perceptive to know that his Uncle definitely didn’t look okay. He instinctively held the old duck’s hand to calm him down, and that… surprisingly helped.

The kid’s grip on the the old man’s hand loosened.

 

“I didn’t really think you can pull a Huey honestly, especially when you’re Mr. Crazy-Rich-Adventure-Uncle.” The blue one teased, unaware that his Uncle doesn’t recall any information of what the young one had said.

_Uncle Scrooge? Scrooge. Yes, was… Is that me name?_

The man confined in his bed didn’t respond to his teasing, not even with a “Oh shut up, ya wee rascal” which the blue one was used to getting from him. The old duck covered in bruises, looking even more sorry than ever, didn’t even look to him either.

 

“Ha- Sorry. Bad joke.”

No answer. The duck began to look even more hurt. How should he even answer? How should he even—

The duckling finally realized something was off. What could’ve caused the old man to get a panic attack this late? Especially with someone like him?

He’s Mr. Crazy-rich-adventure-Uncle…. was..

 

“Ah.. Ah’m sorry for wakin’ yeh up, lad.”

 

**Sorry.**

This wasn’t the first time the young duck heard that. Scrooge was always sorry recently. But this time that “Sorry” was different. He wasn’t sorry for what he’s saying or apologizing. Not sorry for not going to adventures.

_He’s sorry for something else._

 

“I— uhhhhh— Look, it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re— hm should I say ‘alive’? You look pretty bad but it’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry for anything.”

Oh, the list of sorries that Scrooge wants to say just started to expand.

 

“...What’s wrong?”

Silence.

 

“Ah—-“ He stuttered. “Ah cannae-“ Scrooge can’t seem to put his frustration, his despair, into words. This child appeared to look close to him, and he didn’t want to break his heart. But he can’t just lie to him. He just can’t.

 

“I cannae… remember anything.”

 

“What?” The blue one’s eyes widened.

“Do not make me repeat it.” Scrooge closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the young one’s response.

 

So. That’s why.

He’s sorry for not remembering.

He’s scared. He doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t know… _.me._

 

The blue one took a few seconds to piece it together, uncertain of what to do. He proceeds to climb up the bed, trying not to touch any part of Scrooge for his frail body couldn’t take even the slightest pressure in this state. The duckling sat on the old man’s left, however his back was still turned.

He opened his beak, and tried very hard not to break-

“This— I— I’m…..Everything’s going to be okay.” The blue one wasn’t sure if he was saying this to his Uncle who no longer remembers him, or to himself, feeling more lost than he was when he was trying to find out about his missing mother.

The blue one took a deep breath and…

“It’s Dewey. That’s what everyone calls me. I’m your great nephew from your sister, Hortense’s side.”

Scrooge turned to the direction of the voice. Dewey was facing the window, revealing the full moon as it loomed over both of them. The soft rays of the blue moonlight made everything so serene, so peaceful. He was just there, waiting for a response.

 

_Dewey._

_Dewey’s blue._

_Dewey… me nephew. Great nephew? Blue. The blue one._

 

“...Ah see.”

Nothing. He doesn’t remember? Maybe he’s still figuring out? Maybe a refresher would help- maybe it’ll just jog up his memory.

“Scrooge. Your name is Scrooge McDuck. You’re the richest duck in the world. The Greatest Adventurer, and the head of McDuck Enterprises. You’re the last of a Scottish clan called Clan McDuck. You came here to America over… over a hundred years ago? God, You’re like super old. I might even have to wake up Webby and get a copy of The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck.” Dewey started listing things about Uncle Scrooge, or at least what was his general idea of him was.

Scrooge was a little relieved… and delighted to know more about himself and how the duckling had decided to pull himself together for him even if it looked so painful— but with the exception of the comment ‘You’re like super old.’ and wait— Life and Times???

“Look I barely know you. Uncle Scrooge.”

“Lad, I dinna ken me either.”

“I just actually met you a year ago. Didn’t really know we were actually related till we step foot into your mansion.”

“Ah never saw ye grow up?”

“You and uh, Uncle Donald over there,” Dewey pointed towards the grown duck who was wearing a sailor outfit, huddled with the other children, asleep… “didn’t really agree on something (to put it lightly) before we hatched. So he raised us by himself for the past 10 years. But don’t worry, I think you guys are cool now. Probably.”

“... what happened betw’n us?”

 

Dewey froze. Unlike the time in the Sunchaser, it wasn’t him who was asking questions, it was now his Uncle Scrooge. This wasn’t a situation he thought he’ll ever face. But here we are.

“I don’t…” Dewey wasn’t like his brothers. He wasn’t good at acting or lying. But he knew one thing about this. “I don’t think it’s my place to say, Unc. Maybe another time? When— Well I don’t know… when you’re discharged from the hospital and everyone’s awake enough to tell you?”

 

“Ah… see.” The old miser looked a little hurt, but it seemed he understood. “Could ye tell me more about yeself then, Dewey? M’ afraid that ah cannae fall asleep tonight. So ah might as well… hear sum stories about ye and…them.”

Scrooge looked over to his kin. Asleep, and oblivious to the world around them. Dewey beamed at his Uncle, and gave him the look of “Really?!” in excitement, as he seemed to like talking, and telling stories.

 

_The blue one loves telling stories, eh?_

 

Scrooge took note of that, and nodded gently in response.

Dewey rushed to his side even more closer, but carefully, not trying to cause him even more pain or disconnect any wires connected to the miser’s body.

Scrooge made room for the rascal to join him in the bed, letting the duckling rest his head on his left wing he’s extended for him.

 

“Ok— So I’ll start with…” and there Dewey goes, starting with the day when he met his Uncle, and what he thought of him. He mentioned familiar names, and the adventures he and his siblings had gone with him. He told him how cool, brave, and so smart Uncle Scrooge is, however there were times that he wasn’t the perfect Uncle everyone thought. Sometimes letting his Uncle’s ego, or greed just get the best of him, but nonetheless he and his family loved him, and always having his back.

But he was careful not to mention, his mother, Della, or the past. Or anything about the Spear of Selene. That wasn’t his place. It was not the time. It’s not what his Uncle Scrooge would want right now.

 

_He needs to be happy._

 

Before all this, Scrooge didn’t even smile anymore. He’s so, so tired that he didn’t even care what happened to him anymore. He was just… there. That wasn’t what his family wanted. That wasn’t what Dewey wanted for him.

Everything changed after what happened in the Sunchaser. And that was all Dewey’s fault. He blamed him for what happened to Della, at first. Dewey took it too far, and he realized that a little too late as usual. He wasn’t thinking, much like how Della just took the rocket, not considering the consequences of her actions. Scrooge was already heartbroken from the loss of Della, and when his own family blamed it on him, it broke Scrooge even more.

Then Shadow War happened. His home, money bin, the whole damn city was damaged, due to Magica’s wrath against the miser. His own family almost got killed because he outwitted a sorceress 15 years ago, and had her sealed in his dime. Her thirst of revenge only grew stronger, fiercer. That was another one of the many consequences of Scrooge’s actions.

Then all the insomnia, the caffeine, the distance, and all of the never-ending apologies, became a normal cycle for the family, for Scrooge. Dewey didn’t want that. He didn’t want it anymore. He didn’t want it for everyone.

 

_This is why Scrooge was here in the hospital in the first place._

 

He fell from a flight of stairs during work, because he was too tired to even get a hold of himself. He fell because he got a little dizzy from being awake for several weeks, not getting enough sleep because of all the nightmares that he gets. He fell because he was too distracted, with all the unhealthy thoughts clumped in his head, and the desire to protect his family from himself.

He fell because of the loss of Della, and how Dewey made him realize that he was wrong, that he simply can’t just roll up his sleeves and face the problem all by himself.

 

He had fallen because…

**Scrooge let go.**

 

He let everything go.

 

The night went on with Dewey telling tales of derring-do, bad and good luck, and his Uncle Scrooge falling asleep to it. And the rays of the soft moonlight started fading, till the breaking dawn arrived.

The duckling smiled at how tranquil he was, even in the most vulnerable, fragile state the sleeping old miser was in.

His Uncle, who was known to be tougher than the toughies, smarter than the smarties, and sharper than the sharpies, didn’t have to be sad or tired today.

 

_Just for today._

 

“Good night, Uncle Scrooge.”

 

Then Dewey closed his eyes to join his uncle, for he’d become too weary to even continue to be awake.

And they slept in till noon, as the world falls away, leaving both to not be bothered by anything. No worries, no problems… Just them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goldie receives an unexpected call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Swearing and yes,, I've put that on the tags.
> 
> Hope you enjoy chapter 2!! I really enjoyed writing the banter of these 2 characters. <3

Gold. Something both the miser and the thief loved more than anything else. At least, she thought the miser was like-minded as her, till he started falling for her, making him vulnerable to the lass more than ever.

 

He became soft, that even the things she did to him were easily forgiven, over and over again. Why?

 

After all that, Why the hell did he still love her?

 

And-

 

“WHY THE HELL AM I THINKING ABOUT HIM?”, Goldie hollered out loud, not admitting that she loved how the miser always chased after her in those adventures. 

 

All acts of mischief, that was all. Besides she never put the miser in situations he could not get out of anyway, even if her intentions were easily misunderstood, even by Scrooge. That was okay for her if he never understood. It was okay if he thinks that she’s been leaving him for treasure. The Ice Queen of Dawson didn’t give a damn about that.

 

Goldie looks at the sunset from her hotel room’s window. She admires the hues of orange, red, pinks painted in the canvas of the sky. Then she looks at the amount of treasure in the corner of her eye from her recent expeditions by herself, shining with avarice, yet still overlayed by the crimson colors of the setting sun, reminding her of Scrooge.

 

This room is still the same room she’s been staying in for a couple of weeks. But the miser’s sobs and apologies that never seemed to stop were still so fresh in the lady’s mind, she couldn’t cease to contemplate at the sight. She carried him to the mansion that night.

 

Goldie didn’t know why.

 

She didn’t want to know why.

 

She didn’t want to understand why.

 

**She just didn’t want to see him like this.**

 

His family could call it whatever for all she cared. She has done things her way for several decades, and the kids shouldn’t stop her now. They can’t, even if they try. They’re just clueless young ones who didn’t understand how it worked. _How it worked for her._

 

She stayed because that was her choice. Or at least, she’d like to think it’s her choice. But Goldie didn’t want to see Scrooge displaying the same pained look he gives her every time. Nothing was the same after White Agony Plains, and his little breakdown in front of her didn’t help. She didn’t stay very long after giving it some thought.

 

Because Goldie didn’t want to care, and didn’t want to get attached any further. It was her number 1 rule. It was a Scrooge thing. It became a Goldie thing. It was _their_ thing. The more you get attached, the more you care, and **the more it will hurt when the thing— the one you love the most is gone.**

 

The cunning lass grabbed her sack enhanced with a certain magical charm that extends the storage of the bag, making it not look as small or as light as it seems.

 

She started compiling her treasure and put it inside her sack. It varied from artifacts, treasure chests, trophies, jewelry, and weapons. Goldie didn’t own or steal gold coins as much as the old man did, but she liked jewelry better. She started packing up anyway, then her phone started ringing— 

 

Goldie shuffled through her pocket and picked it up. 

 

The Caller ID shown: Mr. Tightwad

 

_ Even when I’m far away, he still can’t seem to let me go, huh? _

 

She let it ring for a couple of seconds, hoping he just dialed by mistake, but no… it seems like it wasn’t ending unless she picks up. She couldn’t really resist to answer.

 

The golden lady fixed herself, composed.

 

“Calling so soon, Moneybags?”

 

“Hm. Hate to break it to you, but it’s not Moneybags.” A child’s voice was heard from the other side. It was Louie McDuck, the green smooth-talker. The green brat who made her stay, a couple of weeks ago.

 

“And what do I owe the pleasure to have exchanged greetings with Sir Louie Duck Esquire III?”

 

“Oh my god, you know about th-“ Louie makes a forced cough to stop himself from that train of thought. “Ok yeah, let’s not. I’m calling because uhhh… it’s serious.”

 

“If it’s so serious, then why the call on Scrooge’s golden flip phone?”

 

“Because I know you’ll pick up, because you’re SO in love with him.”

 

“You sure? You’re not just using this because your phone is probably dead, and you’re just lazy to charge it? If it’s not that, then this phone is probably just the nearest to you. Then?”

 

A pause occured between the two, which meant Goldie was right, and it’s her victory.

 

“I think I know how Scrooge feels about you analyzing him now. Wow, that’s terrifyingly accurate.”

 

“Well, I don’t have time for your games or whatever you’re trying to do here, Mr. Llewelyn. So Bye-bye~”

 

Goldie took her phone away from her ear and-

 

“DONT CALL ME LLE—-NO WAIT-Look it’s about Scrooge.” came from the other side.

 

“...and why do you think I’ll care?”

 

Louie, even if it was just a split second, could feel Goldie’s hesitation from his side of the call. 

 

“I don’t know,” Louie knew but this wasn’t the time for it. “All I know is that you’re the one he cared about the most (aside from us), and that’s why you deserve to know what happened.”

 

She pulled her phone back.

 

What… happened?

 

Wait- no, he’s bluffing. He should be. This brat’s the type for pranks, all acts of devilry.

 

This shouldn’t be…

 

Goldie was uncertain of what to reply and decides to say nothing, waiting for another response.

 

“So I’m taking that silence as a ‘I want to know’, so I’ll tell you anyway.” Louie had stated… and then— this was it. 

 

Louie hated it, and hated how he was the one who has to do it. He was never the responsible one out of his brothers, but right now, it seems like he’s the only who’s got his shit together in this damn family. No one here is able to give the bad news, which is by the way, not as bad as it sounds, without crying. Donald could do it, but his voice can not be heard and understood clearly face to face, let alone being on the other side of a call with Goldie.

 

Louie did it because he felt like he had to.

 

He hates that he has to, because that’s not a Louie thing. He’s known for being lazy. He’s known as the evil triplet. He’s known for— ugh… maybe this whole thing about Scrooge being more Scrooge than usual, ending up biting him back,and all the hours of being in the stupid hospital was really getting to him.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Ugh. Yeah, yeah. I’m getting to it… “ Louie snides. He sat outside of the room his Uncle was confined in. There were many voices that were blurred his thoughts out.

 

“Uncle Scrooge got himself hurt.”

 

“Isn’t he always hurt?” Goldie’s morbid sense of  humor flickered for a bit.

 

“Let me rephrase that:  Scrooge got himself hurt real bad. It’s… really bad. He’s really… in a bad shape.”

 

“...” Goldie stayed silent.

 

“Quackfaster, his archivist, found him in the base of the stairs back at the money bin. He was unconscious. His head was bleeding, and so he got to the ER yesterday. He’s fine if that’s what you want to know. A lot of close calls but… he’s fine. Just gonna be in the hospital for awhile. He’s…. ok.” Louie tried reassuring the lass from the other side, but… 

 

“....From the slight change of the tone of your voice, I could tell that’s not the full thing. He doesn’t sound ok at all, Verde.” Goldie had noticed, and decided to comment.

 

“Ugh. He woke up when we were all asleep. Dewey… woke up at that time too. And he found something out from that.”

 

“Which is what?”

 

“He doesn’t remember anything. Huey, and Webby isn’t taking it well so they’re with Uncle Donald and Beakley right now trying to I don’t know “prepare” them I guess.. before Scrooge wakes up again. And I didn’t really-”

 

“Didn’t want to bother them? So you decided to call me instead?” Goldie assumed.

 

“You know, I think I’m sure I know why Scrooge loves and hates you at the same time now.” Goldie couldn’t see Louie from the other side, but she imagined Louie squinted at her during that statement.

 

“Heh.”

 

“...You’re taking this too well. Maybe you didn’t hear me.” Louie was in fact still squinting, and his suspicions were growing stronger.

 

“Maybe you should stop worrying about how I act every now and then.” Goldie brushes it off.

 

“Maybe you should go visit my Uncle.” Louie retaliated.

 

“And why should I do that?” Goldie smirked.

 

“Because you’re Goldie O'Gilt, and he’s Scrooge McDuck. ”

 

“HA!” Goldie laughed at the remark. The middle-aged looking woman found it adorable that Louie was trying to “fix” their relationship for them, especially with her own words used against her.

 

“You guys are practically made for each other. Age-wise, and chemistry-wise. You guys have the longest history, not even the four of us know. Maybe he’ll remember something ‘cause you’ve known him the longest.”

 

“He’s better off not remembering me, that’s for sure.” Goldie spouted off some of her ramblings out loud without thinking.

 

Louie displayed a devilish-looking grin upon that statement.  _ So she IS in love with him _ , he thought.

 

Goldie had suddenly what she had said and became uncertain of the green one would respond. She pictured him having that big smug look in his face. Yes, that one, the one where u want wipe it off him as bad and as inhumane as you can.

 

“I see. So you don’t want him to remember you, specifically? Well we can make that happen if that’s what you want.” Louie broke the silence.

 

Wait what?

 

“We’re leaving for a bit… you know give the old timer a little bit of space and we do need to get out of that hospital. We’re going grocery shopping, and to fill the glorious pantries of McDuck Manor… That would take awhile~”Louie persuades.

 

“Oh for fuck sake.” Goldie groaned.

 

“Hey I’m just saying… if you don’t want to visit. Then don’t. You have a choice to make him remember you or not. You have a choice unlike the time from the mansion.”

 

“...”

 

“It’s your decision now, Glittering Goldie~” Louie snickered.

 

And the call ended there.

  
_ What a little shit, that one is,  _ Goldie thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goldie maybe the only character that I've written that openly swears, and I'm pretty sure she would do that if Ducktales weren't a disney show. And also thanks for all the comments and all the kudos guys. Ducktales is the first fandom I've ever written fics for!! It really means a lot :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goldie sees of what became of the Miser, and thought he couldn't be any worse when she last saw him. Obviously, she was wrong.

It hurts...

 

God, it’s that pain again. The anesthesia was probably wearing off.

 

This excruciating pain woke the miser up.

 

It didn’t help when the voices of his family crowded the room. He’s awake but— it seemed like a bad time to let them know that he was. They seemed to be arguing whether or not if they should leave him. Scrooge couldn’t tell what else was comprehensible since his consciousness still flickered.

 

Then silence, they…. seem to have left.

 

Scrooge opened his eyes, carrying a heaviness in his eyelids. Everything felt so sore. Like if anybody touched him for just a second, he would shatter in a million pieces, not being able to put himself back together. Fuck, everything just hurts so much.

 

It’s the same sorry sight for the former Mr. Crazy-rich-adventure Uncle, or whatever his nephew, Dewey apparently called him. God, if he’s the richest duck in the world, the adventurer that Dewey looks up to? This is the most painful and shameful state to be looked at. 

 

“Hello, old miser.” 

 

A voice. That’s...that voice.

 

A strange, warm feeling overcame the old duck, as he turned to see who it was.

 

It was a lass. He didn’t even notice her come in. She was a bonny one. That was probably one of the many things he could call her. After all, she was a lot of words.

 

Mesmerizing. Exquisite. Mysterious…. but there was one word that was strange to him, or at least to what he can remember. Somehow, this woman in front of him, who seems to be visiting him, seemed so.. What was the term he wanted to think of— Was is it bittersweet?

This, here, right now felt so bittersweet.

 

The woman had eyes that pulled him in, displaying a deep shade of green, so beautiful, her eyes might as well be emeralds. Her physique was quite taller than the average woman, if Scrooge stood up they would almost be the same height. The woman wore a black turtleneck sweater paired with a yellow oversized cardigan. There was a peculiar necklace hanging around the lass’ neck, one that resembles an eye.

 

It was all too familiar. Familiarity was the old man’s friend, especially when trying to remember things. But this familiarity— he had a bad feeling about this.

 

Especially her hair, there was something about her hair… it had a color that looked so much like..

 

_ Gold. _

 

“.... Goldie?”

 

The woman with golden locks didn’t act surprised , or at least that’s what it looked like to him. She wasn’t surprised to have called her by her name, nor the time that took him ‘long enough’.

 

‘ _ You have a choice, my ass.’  _ she thought.

 

“That was fast, Moneybags.” Goldie had stated, taking a chair to sit by him.

 

“Uh?” he answered in confusion, immediately putting his guard up since— well he felt it was necessary. There was still something up with her, and the old miser doesn’t know why or what it is.

 

“Heh,” She chuckled, “I’m not going to hurt you. You already hurt yourself enough.”

 

This old duck had suddenly made a list of never-ending questions in his head— and they were multiplying the longer Scrooge observes this out-of-this-world beauty of a woman.

 

Goldie, on the other hand, found the situation pitiful. That old sourdough from their Dawson days just ended up like this. A lot of people would pay a fortune if she showed them how the strong and cunning King of the Klondike all beaten up like this. She almost can’t believe that this is what all it took to let him end up like this. 

 

However, the cautious lass didn’t show a hint of surprise, concern, or… anything but a smile that she always wore, not letting anyone figure her out. In fact, it was easy for her to keep a facade because that’s what all she’s been doing for the whole century she’s known the old duck, well she’s been doing it her whole life, I suppose. This accident or whatever _doesn’t_ change anything to her, not one bit. 

 

“I’ve heard you’ve lost your memories, old timer. But it seems like you don’t need help remembering my name.” she hummed, crossing her legs as she sat there.

 

“Ah dinna… It just… popped up in my head really. It’s strange,” Scrooge commented, putting himself in a position where he felt the least pain, “It didna  happen to the others…”

 

“What else do you remember?” the woman asked, this time, crossing her arms.

 

“Ah dinna ken. Just… _words_.”

 

“And what are those words?”she raised a brow, her tone brimming with curiosity.

 

Scrooge shifts his eyes to her, suddenly overcome with distrust. This woman whom he’s just seen, not knowing anything but her name, suddenly asks questions of things she should not ask. Yet, that warm feeling was still not going away, now accompanied by a tint of paranoia and confusion, kept the old man on his toes.

 

“Goldie… What are ye tae me?” Scrooge answers her with a question, looking away.

 

There it was.  _ The question. _

 

What was Goldie to him? What was Scrooge to her? 

 

It leads to so many answers and names. Yet, all of the words that was coming up couldn’t satisfy the question. 

 

“I’m whatever you want me to be, Moneybags.” Goldie replied, tilting her head ever so slightly.

 

_ True love leaves you for dead in the Gobi desert.  _

 

“That still doesna give me any reason tae trust you,” the duck covered in multiple bandages hissed.

 

_ True love sells you to Portuguese pirates and throws you out of an airship over the Himalayas. _

 

“Still the same paranoid old man, eh?” Goldie kept smiling, her mask trying not to slip off.

 

_ True love leaves you in a glacier when the sun’s rays thaw it out after five long years of your being frozen together. _

 

“Ah dinna have tae entertain you, woman.” Scrooge grumbled.

 

She and Scrooge have lived many lives, and they’ve always run parallel to each other. Yet, still not giving an answer to the question: … _ What are you to me? _

 

“Goldie O’Gilt. The former proprietor of the Blackjack Ballroom back at Dawson.” The woman turned stern, finally giving hints of herself.

 

“... The Klondike.” Scrooge widens his eyes, images suddenly rushed into his head. 

 

“White Agony Creek… Dawson… The Golden Goose Egg nugget-“ he paused, and turned to Goldie again with a face she’s all too familiar with, “-yoU!”

 

“Yeah, you better get used to that.” she casually stands up, finally leaving him, knowing that this was a fucking bad idea.

 

“Wait- Goldie. Please— Dinna  go-AGh!” Scrooge reaches out in desperation, screaming in pain as he extended his arm to her. He forgot of his persistent pain, letting his emotions slip out of nowhere.

 

**Please don’t go.** Those words- always wanted to escape from his lips, but it seems like, even if he couldn’t remember, Scrooge couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of him saying it to Goldie O’Gilt. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. God, what has this world come to?

 

Goldie turned around, considering the options of what to say. Nothing came out, clenching her fists with all her frustration pent up. This was _just_ like last time.

 

“Why would you say that?” the woman had asked, in the most icy tone she could put it.

 

“Ah dinna ken.” Scrooge’s eyes turned glassy.

 

“Then what the fuck do you-“

 

“AH DINNA KEN. Just— please— I dinna want tae be alone… ” His voice breaks, tears starting to run down from his tired and hurt eyes.

 

Goldie, the Ice Queen of Dawson, was again at a loss of words. Surely, she’s supposed to know what to do, or what to say— but there was nothing. Just nothing, but pity and a little bit of unnecessary heartache that Goldie had tried to dispose of little by little in every adventure she left Scrooge.

 

The thing that’s so difficult about Scrooge was he held onto her like he held on to every single coin he’d ever earned, even if she gave him every reason to let go. The old miser never truly did let go, even if it was growing weaker, he still kept it burning. He’s a sentimental old fool, who’s beyond anyone’s help. He’s so hopeless he remembered her name at the first sight of her reappearing. Ugh, the thought of it was so frustrating for Goldie.

 

_ It’s not like she wanted to leave either. _

 

The old duck covered his face, looking down. He was still shaking from the immense pain he had felt from his sudden movements, regretting that reckless action.

 

“You’re hopeless, Scrooge McDuck.” She groaned, grabbing the miser hand away, revealing him to be weak in front of her. “Fine. I’m not leaving— for now.”

 

“This isn’t a good look for a man such as yourself.” the woman with golden locks gently wipes away his tears, parting him with a kiss on his forehead afterwards. Scrooge, looking more frail and broken than their last meeting, displayed an expression of distress under all that bittersweet gratitude.

 

“I’m sorry, Aurum…” He apologizes along with name he’s given her, and that was the last time. That was the last fucking time Goldie would allow herself to hear those stupid words coming out of that stubborn hopeless romantic who doesn’t have anything to apologize for— If anyone’s gonna apologize, it’s supposed to be her. HER!

 

“You’re…  gonna need a doctor. I’ll be back.” She pats his head, reassuring the old man while hiding her own anger to herself. When she left the room, she pictured his injuries again. That kiss let her inspect him much more closer, and with her long experience as an adventurer and knowledge gained from treating her own injuries, it’s safe to say… those aren’t just ordinary injuries you can get by falling from flight of stairs. There was something off… with the story. 

 

_ Did he… really just fall? _

 

Goldie had questions, but kept it to herself. She’s not dumb enough to buy the reason for it. Falling down the stairs may look like another misstep of the tired old man, but this feels a whole lot bigger than that now.  As she wondered of his situation, the woman approached the nearest nurse to ask if the doctor assigned to Scrooge was available to check in with him. 

 

Soon enough, they were in Scrooge’s room. Goldie was behind them, no longer smiling however she almost seem to be troubled. The doctor, a female bear, had carefully interrogated Scrooge as the feline nurse checked his vitals and his IV drip. They both checked for his injuries and gave him a dose of pain relief drugs. The bear had gone through a checklist of questions, you know the usual things for hospitals:  Questions, tests, treatments, and medicines to take.

 

Then Goldie noticed… he wasn’t saying anything about his amnesia, so she took initiative to jump-start the conversation.

 

“He also woke up last night,” the woman casually added. Scrooge looked back to her in response, for a split second, with the look of betrayal Goldie often got from him. 

 

“...Aye, what the lass said is true.” Scrooge bitterly admitted, getting it over with, “Ah woke up not remembering anything, and— had trouble breathing after that. That woke one of me kin up and he calmed me down.”

 

The doctor and the nurse exchanged a worried look, but Scrooge caught that despite his aloofness lately.

 

“The lad didna mean any harm by not getting you,” the old man interjected, “It was late and he just wanted tae keep me company till ah’ve fallen asleep. He filled me in tae some details about meself… It seems like ah still find things familiar if ah see them, or hear about them.”

 

“I see,” the bear had changed her tone to something reassuring, “I believe you’re experiencing a type of post-traumatic amnesia, Mr. McDuck. You fell from a flight of stairs during work, and you hit your head pretty hard, causing you to get a traumatic brain injury.  It’s hardly permanent, but the memories will take time to come back.”

 

“...For how long will it take?” Scrooge frowned.

 

“It may last for weeks, and in rare cases, months or years. But we have medication that are used to help improve your condition.” The doctor says.

 

“Ah see…” the old duck was uncertain of what to do with the information, but he understood.

 

They proceed to go through their (now revised) checklist again. Honestly, the checklist was so precise maybe his nephew, Huey would go over with it repetitively and with additional intricate little details, or at least that’s what Scrooge heard from the blue one, Dewey. And of course, they also added a psychiatric appointment, and the medication that came with it in that damn list.

 

Goldie was just there, observing everything. She may not seem like she isn’t paying attention, but it still felt peculiar… for the miser to see her like that.

 

Then it all just went by, like nothing happened.

 

Although, there was one thing that was different from everything that day.

 

Goldie O'Gilt, the Ice Queen of Dawson, stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the Solving Mysteries and Rewriting History book from a Secret Santa!! and You bet Scrooge's Number 1 Dime I'm gonna use some quotes FROM THAT BOOK here. (Chapter 7 which was about Goldie was very intriguing.) To contrast with what he says about true love in the book and states what Goldie is to him (canonically), he simply doesn't know what she is to him here neither does Goldie. Of course, she doesn't like to show that part of her either.
> 
> Also I'm very in love with neopuff's true love fic, and thehousethatfloats' all that glitters fic!! you should check them out!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald and the kids get back home after getting groceries, while still trying to accept the situation with Scrooge. Dewey separates from the group to wander around and stumbles upon the remnants of his mother in a room he has been to before.

Groceries were one of the things Scrooge didn’t do with his kin, because everyone knew he would scream at the sight of the its receipts, higher than the costs of it when the tenants of his house was just Webby, Beakley, and him. He gave up going with them for his sake, and let them know that it was ok to buy anything as long as the total cost stays under the limit of $300. Everyone would go a little over the cost but they kept it secret from him. I mean, how else would they feed 7 people in the house? It wasn’t that much harm.

 

Well… If only Scrooge could see them now, just following that rule for once. He’d probably just let everyone off at that point, and the kids smiled at the thought. It was just… It’s just that kind of day.

 

The tires of the decade-old car screeched slightly at every turn it made, and Donald’s awkward driving didn’t help. Webby and the boys didn’t mind it and was already used to it, since Launchpad’s driving was worse.

 

Finally, There it was… the mansion standing strong and tall, in the midst of its home, Duckburg. The family arrived at the cold, enormous house standing on the top of the hill. Its walls felt unwelcoming more than usual. Donald exited the car, grabbing as many groceries as he can. Subsequently, the kids had come out of the car. Huey assisted with carrying groceries with his clumsy uncle. Webby, and Louie made sure both they don’t trip and cleared out the way for them while Dewey was behind, having his thoughts somewhere else.

 

The mansion felt empty without the old duck shuffling around. The miser may have never been around that much for them but its residents always found him roaming the halls, letting them know he was just… there. Knowing Scrooge isn’t here left a void in each of them.

 

As the sailor set the grocery bags on the counter, he turned around for a head-count by habit. There’s one… two… three…

 

“Where’s Dewey?” Donald inquired.

 

Huey and Webby turned to each other confused, then to Louie, both about to ask if he knew where he went till he answered the question himself.

 

“You know, somewhere as usual,” Louie nonchalantly says, his right hand on his hoodie’s pocket and left scrolling through his phone, “Dewey’s always somewhere else. It’s not something new, Uncle Donald.”

 

“... I’ll go look for him.” Huey sighed, walking out of the kitchen. He slightly elbowed his brother and gave him the look to help their Uncle, and Louie rolled his eyes to that, then went to Donald and Webby anyway.

 

_Why can’t Dewey just stay in one place?_ , Huey thought.

 

Small sets of continuous distant pitter-patters were heard in the halls of the east wing, and Dewey was in the middle of it all. Paintings of Scrooge’s past lives decorated the walls, and jewels often laid around with ornaments, shining with nothing more than the familiar glimmer of the setting sun.

 

Dewey stopped to look at one particular painting of Scrooge, eventually grinned at the picture. Scrooge wore a smile on that one, one that nobody sees these days. He looked like he was genuinely happy. Emphasis on “was”. The fact everyone sees that old geezer being less of the man he used to be, it was just…

 

_Was it his fault?_

 

Dewey looked down, as his smile faded. He turned away from the painting, pressing onward.

 

He doesn’t know what he was doing here, but he did want to get away from his family for a bit. It was something that his brothers and his uncle never understood, but they’ve mostly left him be. Maybe he’s just searching for something.

 

He wants to find something.

 

Something to solve every puzzle in front of him, something to answer every question he had. Something to mend every little wound that can’t be seen by everyone but still there being present in their lives.

 

Something to fix this mess that he made.

 

Something to help Uncle Scrooge be happy.

 

Something to bring Mom back.

 

**_JUST SOMETHING_ ** _._

 

Deep in thought, a door creaked behind him. That caused him to stop what he was doing, curious of the sound. Looking back, the room it led to was familiar. Dewey stepped towards the door, pushing it gently.

 

As the door rasped against the wooden floorboards, it revealed to a room. A room where he and his brothers have been before, its air filled with dust. It looks like it was untouched since the day Donald had left them under Scrooge’s care. This was the same room Scrooge locked them into. Strange though, it was still as dusty as they left it. Did Beakley and Duckworth intentionally leave this room untouched?

 

The room was filled with cobwebs, and furniture he couldn’t determine under those white sheets. The child never actually saw what’s underneath since he devised a plan to escape from the room with his brothers as soon as they were locked in. Due to that, he never got the chance to look around.

 

_Well, better late than never_ , Dewey’s impulsive curiosity won once again.

 

The blue one grabbed onto one of the sheets and pulled it off. It revealed an upright piano. Its material was made of Mahogany, and its keys were unblemished. Dewey stroked onto a few keys of black and white, listening to its sad melody. As he moved forward to examine the piano, the child sat on the chair in front of it then noticed evident smudged stains on it. It wasn’t obvious but… it seemed like dried tear drops. But who did it belong to?

 

The question still lingered, but then he caught something in the corner of his eye. He noticed something under the piano. He found music sheets, clutching over it. The child’s eyes widened at its contents. A song called…-he couldn’t read it since the title has been redacted.

 

It was full of musical notes and lyrics but that wasn’t what caught his full attention. All of it was in his mother’s handwriting, including the composer’s name: Della Duck. The second thing disconcerting about it was that the similar stains on the piano had been all over it, seeming to be newer.

 

If Della’s belongings resided in this room this whole time he’s been investigating about her disappearance, then that’s what frustrated Dewey even more.

 

It was _here_ all along.

 

Right under their noses.

 

**He knew it.** Dewey knew there was more to her.

 

Brimming with hope and the drive to find more answers, he pulled another sheet off of a piece of furniture. Uncovering the mystery of it, it was a desk.

 

The desk was filled with a lot of his mother’s belongings: family pictures, dried out ink pens, and papers of sorts. Family pictures included Scrooge, Donald and her. Another was their deceased grandparents: Hortense and Quackmore, and it went on to people who he didn’t know, or at least wasn’t familiar with.

 

He grabbed onto the papers, looking for answers. These were the original drafts of… what seemed to be the Spear of Selene and other mechanisms, along with sloppier, rushed handwritten notes that it might’ve become illegible.

 

Equations of aerodynamics, notes about machinery, and the maps of the skies and endless stars were also visible from the other papers. She is after all, from what Scrooge had told them, a skilled aviator, but it felt more than that. With these blueprints, she might as well have been an inventor and an astronomer.

 

I guess she was a lot of things other than an adventurer, and Dewey was amazed by that fact. Della wasn’t just one thing, and she was capable of handling so many things at once with confidence. Sadly, overconfidence, stubbornness, and recklessness was the family’s curse.

 

Like the tale of Icarus, Della flew too close to the sun.

 

_There’s gotta be more than this,_ Dewey snapped out of it and reasoned with himself, trying not to crumple the papers. He shuffled through all of them, but one slipped out of his hands. It was already crumpled and stained with ink. As he saw it slip out of his hands--”Nononono---” The child immediately tried to grab it, but lost his balance in the process.

 

The next thing he sees was someone’s webbed feet by the doorway.

 

Dewey looks up and finds Huey with his crossed arms in front of him.

 

“...What are you doing on the floor?” Huey raised a brow, unamused.

 

“Finding... not secrets—,”Dewey paused and thought: _Oh my god, this is like the Sunchaser._

 

The red one displayed that expression. The Donald expression where he doesn’t buy it, obviously the same one when they tried to steal the house boat. Yes, THAT expression. Seriously, Huey and Donald are becoming similar by the year.

 

Dewey smacked his hand over the crumpled paper then pulled it closer to him, smiling awkwardly. And that was what convinced Huey 110%  that the middle child of this family knew something.

 

“Uh— yeAh.” Dewey stood up, still clinging onto the paper.

 

“You do know whatever you’re doing doesn’t convince anyone, right?” the capped duckling says, unimpressed.

 

“You do know ‘Who’s Dewey?’ wasn’t really convincing either, right?” The duck dressed in blue snarked, bringing back that time where his brother failed to give Donald a good enough excuse when they were stealing the house boat.

 

“You do know all of us could’ve died if you made even one single wrong step in the Sunchaser right?” says Huey, shutting his brother down before making any remarks.

 

“...Okay, that’s fair.” Dewey, in one of the very rare cases, accepted defeat this time.

 

“So, What did you find— out-” Huey went past him and he saw the desk, pictures… “Did this belong to who I think it--”

 

“Yeah…” Dewey answered, trying not to pull a Castle McDuck on any family member again, “It’s Mom’s.”

 

“How long have you known about this?!”

 

“Woah chill, bro. It’s not that long. Like… a moment ago, I was just wandering around then i went past the room and thought,” then Dewey switched to a dumber voice, sweating and beginning to ramble, “ _oh hey what’s in here_ , cause y-you know we never actually stayed here that long to look at stuff inside and it wasn’t locked and--”

 

“ **OKAY** , ok. Yeesh. You’re like Webby #2,” the duck in crimson colors creased his own forehead.

 

“IT’S NOT LIKE YOU **_DON’T_ ** CRACK UNDER PRESSURE TOO, HUBERT.” exclaimed Dewey.

 

“I JUST HAD TO BE SURE, OKAY?!” Huey retaliated then realized what the situation was, “I---I’m sorry everyone’s just down in the dumps because of  well… Scrooge…”

 

Dewey frowned at the statement.

 

“I mean...I know it’s not Scrooge’s fault and nobody’s saying anything so--” Huey suddenly switches his tone, suddenly anxious.

 

“I know… I know… all of this really suc--” Dewey looks down, uncrumpling the paper in his hand disturbing his train of thought.

 

“...What?” Huey’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed, curious of what’s making Dewey freeze like this.

 

“It’s her handwriting again…”

 

“...No kidding, Dewford. This room is full of her things...like look at these--” Huey shuffles through her desk, “...woah….these blueprints and…. **super organized** ...notes. _Mom, I worship you_.”

 

“No. Her handwriting is neater here but...Huey! This!! It’s a letter written by Mom!”

 

“What?! To whom?”

 

“...”

 

“What is it?”

 

“It’s to… Uncle Donald… “

 

“Wait...let me see…”

 

The two ducklings hovered over the letter of aged paper, consisting of some ink splatter and their mother's cursive hand writing.

 

* * *

 

Don,

 

~~I'm not apolo~~ I’m writing this a few weeks after our fight about going to space I didn’t mean to say those things I said. I love adventuring with Scrooge, but I want you there too. I know most of our recent adventures weren’t actually the best things that are happening to you, ~~especially with Jose and Panchito being busy, you don’t see them anymore.~~ I know writing a letter about this seems cowardly, but our family isn’t really good at speaking our heart out? I don’t want to lash out on you especially when we both inherited our parents’ temper or I guess the McDuck+Duck temper…  So I’d rather stick with writing this instead. I’m sorry. I know you deserve a better apology. But the thing is, I just discovered Scrooge is building the rocket. He hasn’t told me and I don’t think he’s told you either. I’m going to take it for a test run whether you like it or not, Don. If anything happens to me, please don’t blame ~~this on Uncle Scrooge~~ yourself. Our family, yet again , has a knack for doing that.

 

It was my decision. My choice. It’s all on me. ~~I don’t know if I’d have the guts to even give this letter to you.~~ I don’t think I can ever face you again after what I said. But I’m doing this not for myself, but for family. I suppose it hurt when you said that it wasn’t. You didn’t deserve getting yelled at for that. I want the kids to go adventuring with us someday, as a family. I was just afraid and frustrated you didn’t see that. I don’t want you to go. I never wanted you to go. But if it’s going to be like this, and I don’t return, please look after Hubert, Dewford, and Llewelyn, will you? They had nothing to do with this. Keep the boys safe. I love you, bro. Tell them I love them too.

Those silly tapes we've recorded before all this should be under my desk. ~~They're not difficult to find. There are more spare ones left there if you ever want to record something with the kids. If there's any battery left anyways...~~

 

I’m sorry for leaving you like this.

 

I wish you'd never have to see this letter.

 

Goodbye.

 

  * Della



* * *

 

The two.. had nothing to say. They just stood there, dumbfounded at their mother's words in the letter. They couldn't express the overwhelming emotions they were feeling right now. Full of anger, mistrust, sadness, and grief...

 

As if the miser's situation wasn't already rough enough.

 

Both of their pairs of eyes started swelling up, trying to hold it back until they couldn't do it no longer.

 

"Sorry."

 

_Was she really sorry?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a sudden switch of perspective, and I've been writing kind of slow because school started 2 days ago.
> 
> But I've always wanted to slip in Della. Even if we don't know about her that much. If I were to characterize Della, i suppose she isn't just this perfect character considering what she did 10 years ago then she is very...flawed (That was ok, she written like that). Della was so much like Scrooge. But she was too much like him.
> 
> She has good intentions much like how Scrooge's overconfidence failed him to see that he was doing something wrong, then they fail to realize it until it was too late.  
> Honestly, the parallel between Scrooge and Della is so uncanny.
> 
> I also want to slip in my (very old) Space comics here for some context from the chapter that can be found in this masterpost:
> 
> https://mcdomii.tumblr.com/post/180578210717/insomniascrooge-au-master-post


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby finds herself in a difficult position, and Louie discovering her secret isn't helping.

“Uncle Scrooge.” That’s what he wanted Webby to call him.

 

Webbigail Vanderquack can’t see Scrooge during his 10 years of his isolation, and grief. It wasn’t that she didn’t see him everyday. But back then, Scrooge was just so far away. He was here, but it didn’t feel like it. Scrooge was just a ghost. A husk that she couldn’t see.

 

_ Granny always told me never to bother you. If you wanted to do something, you’d come to me. But you were always so busy with your business, and your grumbling _ .

 

The young girl grew up here in the mansion, just with the people she’s only known her whole life, “Granny” and “Mr. McDuck.” Even though she couldn’t see Scrooge, she went out her way to see him. Why? Because he was Mr. McDuck. She thought if she knew so much about him, she could see him.  Webby could talk to him. Webby could just… see the miser who he was, who he used to be.

 

Mr. McDuck always looked tired. He always looked so, so distant. Sometimes, he would stay home, and slump around the mansion.  The old miser looked so sad. Not sad, as in bawling-his-eyes-out sad, but a certain melancholia surrounded him. It felt like he was carrying the world on his back, chained to be something he didn’t want to be. Somebody who gave up.

 

Webby, like the young lassie she was, never understood why. But nonetheless, she believed if she knew everything about Mr. McDuck, she could see him, and talk to him, and he wouldn’t have to look so lonely anymore. He’ll be happy.

  
  
  


Webby. Well, she used to be “Webbigail”. But now she became family to Mr. Mcduck. She’s gained more friends, her whole family. However, nothing feels the same anymore. Everything was just going too fast. Life truly was becoming like a hurricane for Webbigail Vanderquack.

 

She met the boys.

 

She met the famous (well, to her) Donald Duck.

 

She helped solve the mystery of Della Duck along with the boys.

 

She met Lena.

 

And she lost her… or at least, she thought she did.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” A voice called out from her own shadow.

 

Lena. Lena de Spell, her best friend, her own shadow. I suppose it was the power of...well I know it’s a bit of a groaner, but both of them figured it was the friendship thing. Lena had explained that feelings were a major component into casting magic. Webby holds the friendship bracelet she made for her and Lena very dear, and she had the strength to will it so. Lena was able to use her feelings into residing as hr shadow now even after everything that’s happened in Shadow War.

 

At first, Webby thought she was crazy. Lena was  **her** shadow now. They tested like a lot of theories since most of this shadow thing was uncharted territory even for Lena. Webby started having dreams with her in it. And Lena WAS ACTUALLY THERE, in her dreams. They were so many things they discovered by themselves during the duration of well… Scrooge refusing to go on adventures after Shadow War. The duck in pink clothes wanted to talk about her to the boys, to her granny, to Scrooge. Lena was on board with it too since the miser had promised she’ll get a place in the family. But Webby couldn’t see him. It was like the same thing before the boys came along. Scrooge was so busy with his own problems that he couldn’t see Webby either.

 

She’s just back to “Webbigail.” And now having Scrooge lose his memory, permanently put her as that.

 

“I guess I’m pretty overwhelmed now, Lena.” She touches the wall, where her shadow was as she was reviewing her famous Scrooge McDuck board, “Everything’s such a mess.”

 

“Well I’ve got nowhere to be.” Lena jokes because both of them knew, she can’t really help it but be by her side.

 

“Are you sure I really am the one who can see and hear you?”

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure people would give you the looks because they’ll see you talking to yourself. That was the case when Aun--... when Magica was my shadow.”

 

_ Magica de Spell _ . Webby was disgusted at the thought of her.

 

“...You know I can hear your thoughts too, right, Webbs?”

 

“...” Webby climbed to her bedroom, up the ladder.

 

Her bedroom had changed. It no longer had the carefree atmosphere anyone could recognize. It was decorated with spellbooks, formulas for potions, sketches for magic circles, ingredients hidden in normal-looking bottles and many more.

 

“I told you to let it go.” Lena witnessed her pulling of a white sheet from another one of Webby’s boards. But this one was different.

 

It had the purpose of tracking down Magica de Spell.

 

“I promised I’m going to bring you back but  _ she _ made you like this, Lena.” Webby replied grimly.

 

“ **I** decided to be _ your shadow. _ ” the girl in her shadow disagreed.

 

“She’s still a threat!  **Not just to you** , but to Scrooge, to my friends and family!” the duck in pink argued.

 

“She’s not a threat if she  _ doesn’t _ have the talisman,  **WHICH** everyone witnessed got broken when it landed on Donald’s hat, remember?!” Lena gestured, almost turning the room dark.

 

“ **That doesn’t give her an excuse to hurt you! Why can't you just TRUST ME!?** ” Webby raised her voice in anger, a rare thing for the lass to do.

 

“She can’t hurt anyone in the state your family left her-” 

 

_ Knock knock. _

 

From the other side of the door, you could hear several footsteps, and probably a loud bumping noise where you’d assume she tripped before getting to the door.

 

The duckling, looking nervous, poses awkwardly after she opens the door, “Hey--”

 

Before the young girl, another duckling stood there. He was one of the boys, it was none other than Louie McDuck.

 

His clothes were what he always wore, a green oversized hoodie that prioritized comfort and the feeling of being casual. However, she noticed there was a slight variation to his outfit.

 

“You’re wearing…”

 

“...Mom’s scarf,” Louie finished the sentence, “Yeah, Huey and Dewey decided to… Yeah. They wanted the scarf to be with me. They found more stuff to add to your Della Duck board too.”

 

“Oh… uh—“

 

“And uh— Dinner’s ready, but you seem preoccupied with something else. Didn’t want to intrude on that.”

 

Webby… knew what he was talking about, with all the time she’s spent with the brothers. Webby learned how to pick up the social cues, now unlike the time when she went to Funso’s the first time. Webby learned from the brothers a lot, especially with someone as perceptive as Louie.

 

“How much did you hear?”

 

“Not as much.”

 

“ _ What _ did you hear?”

 

“Yelling.”

 

Webby was… raising her voice a couple of times. How long was Louie even standing there?? Did he hear everything??? 

 

Finally— That’s when Webby breaks.

 

“I swear I was gonna tell you guys.”

 

“Doesn’t it always start that way?” Louie sarcastically remarked, leaving a hint of bitterness.

 

“Well, everyone’s so busy with their own stu—“

 

“Save it, Webby.”

 

“But—“

 

“How long has the Lena thing been going on?” the green duckling asked, crossing his arms.

 

“Wait… How’d you know it’s about Lena?”

 

“I can hear you from the hallway, duh.”

 

“Oh.I…” she paused, looking to her shadows for answers, and exhaled, “ I can’t- It’s a very long story uh..Can we talk about this after dinner? I promise I’ll tell you (including your brothers) everything. I’m just not ready to talk about all of it with  _ everybody _ \-- yet.”

 

Louie’s face remained stern, and stiff, one that Louie the lazy “I don’t really care, so you do you” triplet isn’t even known to do. But he’d make this an exception. If Webby kept a secret as big and as dangerous as this before the time he’s known her, he wouldn’t hesitate to push her until she spills it.

 

But Louie, now knowing what kind of person Webby is like, had considered all the reasons and her mannerisms, and basically why the young girl is doing what she had to.

 

_ Much like Dewey no matter how dangerous it was to do it, Webby won’t keep a secret unless she had a good reason to. _

 

“...Okay, fine.” Louie sighed, “...I trust you. But I’ll hold you up to that promise, ok?”

 

Webby, face covered in guilt and worry, suddenly beamed up. She began to look like the little girl Louie had seen went they first spent the day playing with her when they moved in the mansion.

 

“Let’s go downstairs before Uncle Donald throws a fit,” the duck in the green hoodie let himself lead the way, reassuring Webby that there was nothing to worry about.

Louie stops and turns his head slightly without looking back, and says, "You can trust us. We're here... ok?"

 

"Yeah... I know, Louie," she smiles,"...thanks."

 

And Webby followed after, loving her family even more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This family has so many secrets. Louie just be like the only one who doesn't have a dark family secret (or does he???) I've also managed to slip in Lena and Webby :D I'm sorry this chapter is less descriptive or shorter unlike the other chapters, i rarely write about Webby and/or Lena so this was a start hhhh. All of them are growing and understanding each other's mannerisms. They've all learned how to deal with this stuff based on their experiences with past adventures :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scrooge wakes up again, but with Goldie still in front of him. He wonders why she was still here. She couldn’t give a definite answer.  
> They enjoy each other's company even if the old miser doesn't even remember it.

The miser laid there asleep, weak and frail, but that was probably the most peaceful state glittering Goldie has ever seen him to be. He often looked paranoid, always on guard, especially if it’s around her. So this was a view she seldom saw. She reached to caress his face with gentle reassurance, but she stopped midway, not even getting to touch him.

 

“Don’t get attached,” she told herself under her breath, keeping her hand to herself.

 

But she couldn’t help but watch him sleep. Did you know he smiles in his sleep? I suppose she found it adorable. Before their adventuring days, the woman was always cautious of him ever since she’s laid eyes on him back at Dawson. That sourdough who everyone hated because he was too tough, too smart and too sharp to fall for all of their tricks, but nobody would dare to even lay a finger for him unless you wanted to feel the wrath of the infamous King of the Klondike. Goldie observed his whole image by the sidelines before making a rash decision. She knew him. She knew all the little details, even if it were insignificant to others. Her objective was to learn his weaknesses, to pounce at the very moment where she can hit rich.

 

Obviously, all of that got thrown out of the window.

 

Glittering Goldie became fond of the King of the Klondike, and she hated and lived in denial that she began to love everything she knew about him.

 

She knew how Scrooge would get so giddy when he’s found that new patch of gold to mine.

 

She knew how he would sometimes stick his tongue out when he’s deep in thought.

 

She knew how he would hum a certain Gaelic song his mother used to sing to him and his sisters back home.

 

She knew how his laugh was so rough and awkward, Scrooge would often try to stop himself from doing it but he, of course, fails miserably.

 

She knew how his grin would stretch to his cheeks, smiling as if his burdens released him from the chains of the world.

 

She knew how he would look at her, eyes burning with several contradicting emotions even Scrooge himself couldn’t comprehend.

 

She knew Scrooge is in love with her.

 

She knew she loves him too.

 

She just chooses not to show it.

 

And so he doesn’t show it too.

 

The Star of the North knew the King of the Klondike.

 

But the Ice Queen of Dawson doesn’t know the World’s Greatest Adventurer, the richest duck in the world.

 

She doesn’t know “Uncle Scrooge.”

 

Goldie O’Gilt doesn’t know Scrooge McDuck.

 

Not anymore, especially now.

  
  


“Nngh…” Scrooge groans, twitching in pain. He opened his eyes heavily, waking up to the same sight, only with one difference. It wasn’t any of his family that was in the room, it was only Goldie.

 

Her attire was different from the first time she visited. She’s wearing a red blouse tucked in a black skirt with its length almost long enough to drag onto the floor. The eye of Demogorgon still hangs around her neck. And her hair was loosely braided, probably Webby’s fault.

 

“You’ve been visiting for more than a week now, O’Gilt. Thought ye wouldna be here for this long.” He chuckled.

 

“Says the man who told me to not go.” She replied.

 

“Aha— please forget about that. I’m…”

 

“Don’t say sorry.”

 

“... Right. Ah suppose it’s become a bad habit of mine—“

 

“Yeah, I noticed.”

 

“S….-“

 

“... You wanted to say it again, didn’t you.”

 

“... Yeah,” Scrooge frowned then continued on, “...how long was I out?”

 

“Not very long… You know… 18 hours, perhaps.”

 

“Curse me kilts… ”

 

“Slept like a rock, if you ask me.”

 

“...What’s that yer reading?” The book beside Goldie caught his attention.

 

That book. That old thing. She wonders how he’d react.

 

“ _You_ wrote the contents of this notebook.”

 

“...Ah.”

 

“Well, most of it. The kids helped and did a lot of what they called…'fact-checking’ … You’ve written this as a draft for an autobiography, but they’ve written over the title as ‘Solving Mysteries and Rewriting History.”

 

“What… What’s it about?” his tone piqued in curiosity.

 

“You.”

 

“... No shit.” Scrooge was a little annoyed by the reply.

 

“Mostly you, or well you and your family’s adventures anyway.” Goldie knew there was a chapter about the Golden Lagoon and more about specifically her history with him in this book she was holding, but she is not gonna mention that, “Funny how you deviate from the facts here, I thought you were better than your Uncle Pothole.”

 

“Ye honestly think it doesna run in the family? Because even I’m surprised you do.”

 

“Eh. You have a less damaged moral compass than I do. Anyway, how did it go with the kids?”

 

“Ah… The kids… They seemed like they were trying tae look ok in front of me. Especially the red one, and the pink one. But nonetheless, they’ve introduced themselves tae me, and I remember quite a few things about them.”

 

It’s been a week since Scrooge landed himself in this bed. He’s really irritated by that. Scrooge couldn’t stand it, just lying in bed not being able to accomplish anything. People have described the miser as a workaholic, and he was very much aware of that. What is making him tolerate all of the pain, medications, doctors, nurses, people telling him what to do and what not to do, all the stupid shit he has to put up with while in recovery was the company of Goldie and his kin.

 

“Hm. Their names. You know them, right?”

 

“Of course, Ah do.”

 

“...” Goldie smirked, waiting for the old man to tell her their names.

 

“Huey, Dewey… L-Louie and… Webbigail…. right??”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“RIGHT???” Scrooge gave that very confused look of hesitation, with a sudden concern that he might’ve not remembered his own kids’ names…

 

And there it was, Goldie broke out of laughter.

 

“I-“ Goldie sputtered, cutting off her own air as she couldn’t stop laughing, “I’m—just messing with—- YoU.”

 

“WELL, **I’D PREFER IF YOU’D STOP IT.** ” Scrooge’s face flushed red, falling for it. The lass with golden locks continued on to laughing, her face crinkled, probably the most carefree he’s ever seen her the days she’s visiting.

 

 _I suppose this is not as bad…but if she dies from laughing that’s not me problem,_ Scrooge thought.

 

“W-well!” she wheezed, still struggling to catch her breath, “You got all of them right anyway.”

 

“Oh sure.” He rolled his eyes.

 

“It would be hilarious if you didn’t give me the right names though.”

 

“Ugh, Goldie, what are ye even doing here?” He sighed from embarrassment.

 

“Aw, you’d look for me when I’m gone, old miser.”

 

“So it’s a _when_?” Scrooge frowned.

 

“You know I won’t always be here to stick around.”

 

“So why haven’t ye left when yew had billions of chances tae leave?”

 

“It’s not everyday the richest duck in the world gets into a predicament such as this.”

 

“I’m being serious, Goldie.” his tone drastically changed into a grave one.

 

Why?

 

Well, why is she _still_ here?

 

I guess even the Ice Queen of Dawson didn’t think about that either.

 

Why is she putting up with the man she’s stabbed in the back multiple times these past decades? Why is she keeping this old stingy tightwad company?

 

Was it the kids pulling her into this unnecessary family drama she doesn’t need to be in?

 

Was it this whole tragedy of a family bringing her back to this sad, sentimental, sorry old fool?

 

Was it her seeking to reconnect, even when that can backfire in every outcome that could’ve been?

 

Was it that lock of hair he’s always kept?

 

Was it that letter she’s never given to him?

 

Is she seeking forgiveness?

 

No. Forgiveness? That’s the most bullshit thing she’s ever heard. Forgiveness from Scrooge McDuck? What a fucking joke. If there’s anything she’d ask from Scrooge, it was none of that crap. Especially not right now. She’s almost sorry for the things she did to him, but that’s not on her.

 

That’s not…

 

“I don’t know— Can you please forget the things I’m going to say after this?”

 

“Ye should’ve said that before I tumbled down the stairs a week ago.”

 

“Scrooge.”

 

“Ok! I’ll keep me bill shut.”

 

“I think— you’re the most frustrating… thing I’ve ever faced.”

 

 _‘Thing’???_ Scrooge wanted to comment, but he didn’t. It was hard to do it though.

 

“Ever since both of us had gone to our separate ways after Golde— after our last adventure, I haven’t really talked this much until now.”

 

“...?”

 

A solitary way of living was what Goldie has led her life to be. Unlike Scrooge, she has no one else to go to in times like this.  Goldie didn’t have any known family, nor was she ever close to hers. Goldie doesn’t have any place to settle down to, nor did she have any plans to be. She’s been alone this whole time wandering in search of treasure with no one to follow her and no one to lead her.

 

What a lonely, free-spirited existence she’s been.

 

“I guess I just missed your company, old sap,”she sighed, indulging the miser with some answer, “These decades, I’ve been going around the world searching for something. Most likely some gold, some jewels, but none of those stupid fur coats though, those are just pretentious.”

 

“Thought you didna care about diamonds, rubies or pearls?”

 

“Oh so you _do_ recall the song?” Goldie grinned teasingly.

 

“....That whole song is a lie except with the part that you love gold nuggets, mind you,” he chuckled.

 

“ _I’m just a poor girl, bashful and shy~_ ” she starts to sing that myth of a song, leaving the words rusty from her beak. Another familiar tune that Scrooge hasn’t heard in awhile, or at least it was something that can be pulled out of his empty head, making him remember more of the Klondike.

 

“ _Honest, and truthful~ I can’t tell a lie~_ ” the lass who used to be decorated with all of the jewelry probably known to man, who used to sing in the middle of the Blackjack Ballroom, continues. It was no ballroom, but she had done it anyway, leaving Scrooge almost entranced.

 

God, _she has the loveliest voice_ , but that bit of the song, of course, is a lie in itself as well.

 

“ _My needs are quite simple~ Modest, and small~_ ”She sets the book on the chair, stands up, and gives herself enough space to hold her arms out as she twirls around comfortably, like how she practiced back at her Dawson days.

 

“ _Now listen while I’ll tell you all~_ ” She gains closer ground to Scrooge, her hand playfully caresses his face down to the bottom of his chin, and the old miser, all covered in bandages, snorts, pulling away and removes her hand from him gently.

 

He eyes her, with a look of ‘ _Oh my god, are you really gonna continue singing?_ ’ and she exchanges a cackle in response. The woman dances gracefully in front of him,  with careful steps accompanied by the rhythm of her own melody.

 

And so she continues:

 

“ _Don’t care for diamonds, rubies, or pearls! Don’t care for fur coats like some other girls~_ ”

  
_“Just give me the one thing that’s easy to spend~”_

 

Scrooge joins in with her singing, a little bit off-key but it was very close to match with Goldie.

 

_“Gold nuggets are my own best friend/Gold nuggets are your own best friend~”_

 

_“Gold nuggets are my truest friend/Gold nuggets are your truest friend~”_

 

Goldie O'Gilt is one of the few who knew him before he was the world’s richest duck, and I suppose that’s why he has such a soft spot for that no-good backstabbing greedy grifter. Even if doesn’t even remember it, the feeling was still there.

 

And she knew that she’s deeply in love with him too.

 

Well, I guess she got attached quicker than she could possibly manage.

 

Why sing to him, you wonder?

 

Because he’s Scrooge McDuck.

 

_And that’s the only reason that matters._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *THE ONLY REASON THAT MATTERS* (sobs)
> 
> The song is an actual song form DT87 :D it's called gold nuggets, and i hope you liked some of my references... they're all over the place so i really enjyed writing this than the previous qwq,, hope you like all the references mashed up together,,,ilysm guys see you next update :D 
> 
> here's a link to the song :0 (gee thanks carro/neopuff u helped me on this one uwu)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GX9HnfJqM3Q


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Mr. McDuck's nephews pay a visit to the McDuck Archives.

The sounds of the clacking of keyboards and people bantering and whispering filled the halls of the offices in McDuck Enterprises, as the nephew of the old miser walked inside the Money Bin.

 

“Is no one gonna talk about Mr. McDuck or… ?”

 

“No one’s giving us any news of that old man.”

 

“Who’s that?”

 

“Didn’t Mr. McDuck cut his ties with him?”

 

“What’s gonna happen to the company?”

 

“This isn’t the first time McDuck’s reputation got ruined.”

 

The duck sighed and didn’t even try to bother listening to every comment they have of him or of his uncle. Being the nephew of Scrooge McDuck, of course, didn’t only have everyone being nosy on Scrooge but at him as well. The nephew was not any of the young ones, but it was the generation before them. He wasn’t in his usual attire, one that everyone would recognize him. He’s wearing a much more formal attire: a long sleeved white collared shirt accompanied by a green tie, and a navy blue blazer.

 

The man in his mid-thirties pushed the button to go down the elevator, resembling a stern expression much like his Uncle Scrooge. Its destination was the level above Gyro’s underwater lab.

 

He stopped in his tracks, finding himself in front of a certain door. The door read: McDuck Archives.

 

The duck knocks on the door for about 3 times, straightening his tie afterwards.

 

“Only family members are granted access in the McDuck Archives. If you are not related to him in any way, then I would have to kindly ask you to leave, and don’t come back.” A voice of an elderly woman was heard from the other side of the door, sounding almost hoarse.

 

“Miss Quackfaster, I’m his nephew.”

 

“I don’t recognize your voice. You are clearly an impostor. Please go away.”

 

“Ugh,” Same old Quackfaster. Of course, she shared some of the eccentricities his Uncle Scrooge had when it came to people. The duck exhaled, and thought about something to confirm his existence as Donald Duck— and well… he did… but he was almost embarrassed about it.

 

“Please open the door, Miss… _Quackie_ ,” Donald sighed, “I need to know what you know.”

 

Years ago, Donald, Della, Fethry, and Gladstone were always dropped off to Scrooge whenever their primary caretakers are too busy to handle them. Scrooge, of course, wasn’t really the best option for the job but circumstances changed so it became like he was the _only_ option. However, there were multiple occasions where the old miser wouldn’t have time to do it whenever he had urgent meetings. Instead of leaving them with Duckworth(he would, but they’ve made a huge mess in the mansion, we don’t talk about that), Scrooge would take all of them at work, and leave them with Quackfaster.

 

Scrooge would trust Emily Quackfaster with the children as much as he trusts her with his own personal records, and information. She was his archivist after all.

 

The first day they got here, Quackfaster had introduced herself to the kids. Della and Gladstone, of course, got her name right the first time. Fethry had to figure it out for the first couple of times, but it was actually Donald who couldn’t say it, stuttering, sputtering all of the wrong consonants, and letters. Her name was a handful for someone young, especially a duckling with a speech impediment.

 

He eventually gave up due to his frustration, and just called her “Miss Quackie” instead. Once he called her that, everyone else started calling her that too. And so that’s when she became “Miss Quackie” to four of Mr. McDuck’s niece and nephews.

 

The door opened gently but not entirely, immediately followed by the librarian’s head poking out. She squints at the man very closely before saying anything, however had her sword ready if the man did something funny.

 

“Donald, child, is it really you?”

 

“Yes, Miss Quackie— Don’t point your sword at me,” the sailor confirmed bitterly.

 

“Oh, lil’ Donnie, I’ve missed you,” she flew her arms onto him lovingly as if she was holding him like the child he used to be, “What’s wrong with your voice? Did someone curse you?”

 

“No,” he sighed, almost tired of trying to explain his predicament, “I’m testing out one of Gyro’s inventions, the Barksian Modulator 2.0. It’s a voice box.”

 

“Ah, I see,” the elderly woman says, “I’m sorry for turning you away awhile ago. The media tried to get in here, so I had to call security to get them- Hold on, I’ll brew us more tea.”

 

Quackfaster step aside to let Donald in, and locked the doors tight. The man waddled his way to follow her, as they both wander into the archives.

 

Donald observes the sight of the big library. Taking in the old scent of the books, and— the nostalgic aroma of the same Jasmine Tea filled the halls of forbidden knowledge. A library wasn’t a place for a child, but he has grown fond of this place…now he started appreciating this sight as he had become an adult now, but as he turned around that corner—

 

“Hey cuz,” The goose smirked, as he took a sip from his cup of tea afterwards; legs crossed, hair curled, and particularly dressed in a way where people would recognize him, all in green and yellow, to accent his white ruffled feathers, and his now more natural-looking—maybe he didn’t curl them, this time—blonde locks.

 

“Oh fuck no,” were the only words that escaped from Donald’s beak in response.

 

Before him, was Gladstone Gander. Loose as a goose, and always ready to gander. The goose, well… half-goose is Donald’s paternal cousin. He was, of course, known for all his outrageous infamous luck which often made him look arrogant to everyone, including to Donald, and Scrooge.

 

“Woah, Donaldo— I thought you’ve become _family-friendly_ over the years because of the kids. But I guess you’re still foul-mouthed as always even with that new voice,” Gladstone remarked, not batting an eye.

 

“Oh fuck off, Gladsto—“

 

“Language, Donnie,” the librarian interrupted, her voice sounding from afar, “I’ll forgive you for not telling anything about me to your kids, or not visiting me the time you and Scrooge started talking. But I will not tolerate profanity in my home!”

 

“Sorry, Miss!” he cupped his hand to make his voice more audible so it can go across the many shelves. Donald does have a tendency to slip out sometimes but he’s learn to repress the habit of swearing around the kids, but not really around his cousins.

 

“I forgot Old Q lives here, huh.”

 

“She’s the dragon that guards all of that McDuck knowledge 24/7— but wait— Gladstone, what are you even doing in Duckberg?”

 

“You know that our Uncle Scrooge is in every news headline, right? He’s the talk of the country, oh wait— more like internationally?”

 

“Oooooof course, he is.”

 

“ _The World’s Richest Duck gets himself in the ER, is this the end of McDuck enterprises?_ Yikes. This is why I don’t like fame.”

 

“It’s not like that old miser can help it— he hates the fact everyone’s watching his every move.”

 

“... Is he ok?”

 

“He’s a little banged up, but he’s mostly oka—,” Donald paused, realizing that old man… lost his memory, and this news wasn’t knowledge to the public nor was it to anyone else but the kids, Beakley, Goldie, and Duckworth, “He… lost his memory in the process.”

 

The goose’s expressions flashed as if he was a chameleon confused of choosing his colors, sudden shock, distress, and… finally despair.  

 

“ _What the…_ ”Gladstone clenched his teeth, whispered worryingly then he placed his hand over his face, overwhelmed by the information he just got of their Uncle Scrooge.

 

“Have you talked to him?” Gladstone asks.

 

“...Not yet. I couldn’t… bring myself to. It’s a lot to process.” the sailor sighed.

 

“How did he get like this in the first place?”

 

“I’m not sure so that’s why I’m here.”

 

“What?”

 

“That old man has gone through a lot of slip-ups in his adventures, and got himself hurt on multiple occasions. But this situation is peculiar, I can’t stand by and believe he JUST fell down the stairs then gets the injuries he has. AND— I’m not the only one who believes this either.”

 

“What I can’t believe is hearing you say _peculiar_ and I actually **understood** it.”

 

“GLADSTONE, PHOOEY ON YOU—“

 

Before Donald could say another word, Quackfaster steps in the scene, holding a tray that carried her tea set, displaying an expression neither Donald and Gladstone could describe. She sets the tray over the table, pouring the tea in a cup.

 

Donald had found that silence… not the usual silence you can get from Emily Quackfaster.

 

“Quackfaster…”Donald sighed, carefully trying to choose his words, but can’t help getting straight to the point, “...do you know anything about this?”

 

“I don’t…exactly know what happened. I wasn’t lying when I said I found him unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, Donnie. But I know he’s going to some places other than work.”

 

“What?? Where? Why?” Donald asks promptly.

 

“I’m not informed of  where he goes. Nobody does. He’s a very private man, if you can’t tell from having his archives guarded by me.”

 

“Ugh, why does he have so many secrets—“Gladstone groaned.

 

“Both of you should understand why,”Quackfaster remarked.

 

“...Because he’s Scrooge McDuck.” Gladstone and Donald murmured sadly, and answered the question in sync as if it was the only thing they ever agreed upon.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant having to carry many titles, including the _World’s Richest Duck_.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant people are going to look at you, be jealous of your riches, and will dig for the worst things you’ve done and regret so much and they will make sure the whole world knows about it.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant that you have to look smarter than the smarties, tougher than the toughies, and sharper than the sharpies always.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant you’ll have to carry your whole family, whole company, the whole fucking world, even if you didn’t even ask for it.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant having to leave your homeland and your family at the age of 13 because you are the last of Clan McDuck and you have to provide for them, even if you lose your sense of what’s right and wrong in the process.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant your actions, no matter what you do, will always look wrong in everyone’s eyes, who are blinded by their own jealousy of what you have.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant your own family leaving you more than once because they’ve misunderstood and doubted your intentions and your eccentricities and invalidated paranoia cost you to have them lose you as a brother, as an uncle, as well as losing them too.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant your one true love couldn’t see you for who you are, but for what you are in a name, that even sometimes you wish you weren’t this man of righteousness and miracles, where she’d have to put you in a high pedestal.

 

Being Scrooge McDuck meant being just a name to everyone, a consequence of pursuing the goal of becoming well… whoever this _Scrooge McDuck_ wanted to be.

 

Maybe he was just doomed from the start.

 

Maybe destiny made him like this.

 

Maybe this is how historians will always write his stories this way.

 

At first, Donald was one of the ignorant people who viewed Scrooge in the same way the world viewed him, Scrooge didn’t care. This wasn’t new. Scrooge let Donald think what he wanted to think. Because the whole world was against him, yet Scrooge was not.

 

It took time.

 

Took Donald long enough. Long enough that his sister had to be the most stubborn, reckless person and take the rocket, trying to follow Scrooge’s footsteps into adventure, only for Della to lose her way back home. Long enough that Donald had to take the kids away from Scrooge as long as possible, cutting him off completely.

 

It took him long enough to realize… that Scrooge wasn’t as perfect as the world looked at him to be. He had his faults, and flaws. He made these very big mistakes. But that shouldn’t invalidate his experiences.

 

He’s only one person.

 

**He’s only human.**

 

It was then… that Donald only understood him a little bit.

 

 _Society, no…  not even family… they don’t really see that legends are people too, you know? That’s why you always keep a strong front. Our family’s cursed with having so much pride, that sometimes we’re blinded by it_.

 

He was just falling apart.

 

The three remained in silence till Donald’s eyes turned glassy, leaving everything in his sight to be blurry. His body started shuddering, his voice shaky….

 

“I-I guess I’m back to square one.” Donald smiled fearfully, trying his hardest to hold his unhealthy thoughts back.

 

Quackfaster put his arms around the young man, reassuring him. And Donald… embraced back, no longer feeling like he was the only one in the world who knew what he knew.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta write how Donald's holding up, but I also had to include Gladstone, because heck yeah duck cousins. Also it's chapter SEVEN, how could I not? Writing their banter is so fun. Especially when I write Donald saying "FUCK". You guys can't @ me, Come on this man had a grunge phase. Also the quote to reference IWTMDHA (god maybe i have to change the title of that fic bc it's a one-shot hhh),, i gotta put it somewhere uwu
> 
> Quackfaster is also one of the most interesting characters in the reboot, especially from her standpoint as a character. So I'm like.... my dude... she's like the original (reboot) Webby.... Quackfaster might be the only one who knows the man, the myth, the legend MORE than Webby. (and aside from Beakley and Goldie...but they kinda know him emotionally... Beakley is more onto how his attitude is... Goldie tho... Feels like her world is turned upside down right now.)
> 
> **The Sea, referring to its storms and uncontrollable waves, is Donald  
> **The Earth, referring to its strong foundations and riches, no matter how different they are from the sea, able to coexist with it, is Scrooge


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beakley finds out that Scrooge's stay in the hospital may not be ideal for his situation, especially when he's the World's Richest Duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry I haven't updated in 4 weeks! Had some writer's block when I GOT MY ART JUNK HAPPEN. This is a bit of a short update, hope you like this.

A routine. A daily list of things to do in the household was what often occupied Beakley’s schedule, and it’s what kept her away from visiting her former SHUSH partner, Scrooge McDuck.

 

Beakley has been trying to hold down the fort while the whole situation with Scrooge blows over. However, this seems like it was going to take a long time. The widower had often handled Scrooge’s privacy more seriously than he ever did. She monitored what was going on in the press. wasn’t only her duty, but it’s a habit of hers as his partner decades ago. As SHUSH agents, your partner is the only person who knows everything about you. You’ve been together through thick and thin, and always had each other’s back even if you no longer were partners. Everything that was in SHUSH stays in SHUSH, and what you and your partner know was confidential to everyone else. You had to trust each other, and in return, keep each other safe.

 

Bentina Beakley is known to be the back up, the one who clean up after McDuck’s messes, and pick up after him. It was their dynamic. McDuck just and often would recklessly charge without reading the case files, while Agent 22 would chase after him making sure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself in doing so (which quite frankly, there were many instances of such events.)

 

This time, Beakley knew one thing. He’s responsible for himself now, and he… always ends up hurting himself in the process, closing himself off, and bottling everything up like the stubborn man he is.

 

_ Well, you’ve successfully pushed your family and everyone who cared about you away, again. I hope you’re happy. _

 

And stubbornly, he took those words too hard. In denial, he admits this was being happy was like.

 

Crutching onto the arms of a chair, its size bigger than him, standing as tall as his pride would have him be; anger, regret, grief, and finally loneliness consumed him. He built walls to keep himself in, where no one can reach him. No one can hurt him, and no one can love him. 

 

This is what happiness looked like.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Waking up, Bentina changed from her nightgown, and dressed into her usual attire. She steps out of her sleeping quarters, hair fixed, prepared to seize the day. But nothing could’ve prepared her for what’s gonna happen today.

 

She knocks onto the triplets’ door, and opens it afterwards. The maid finds Webby and the boys on the floor huddled together, passed out. The woman sighed, gazing on the mess of the area, with its empty pep cans and such. Seems like they stayed up all night. The kids were on top of some papers….

 

Those papers look familiar, is that…?

 

“Oh, what have you kids been doing…” she muttered worriedly, finally recognizing those papers. They were investigating about Della again, huh? Beakley thought she kept that room locked… wait— Ugh, Scrooge put them in there the first time they decided to make fun of him— I suppose they just finally found that her belongings were in there.

 

Some of these papers, Della had personally shown this to the old housekeeper a year before her disappearance, when she was newly employed as one of the housekeepers, while bringing Webby as an egg with her. Out of the box inventions, music sheets, and many more was presented to her. She was a bright, young lady who confided in her, mainly because there weren’t many female role models around her, and I suppose they respected each other, as they were both remarkable people. 

 

Matilda and Scrooge were in a fall-out, and with Scrooge being Scrooge, he doesn’t visit often. Elvira, the twins’ grandmother on Quackmore’s side, was on the other side of the country which limited the times they could see her if they resided in the mansion. Goldie was… being Goldie O’Gilt, probably out there at some adventure, risking her life to claim some treasure at a faraway place on her own. Scrooge and Goldie were, of course, not in the best terms at that time either. And Hortense…

 

Hortense, their mother, was no longer here either.

 

And now, the boys didn’t have their mom because of some reckless mistake.

 

“Boys, Webby, Come now, it’s morning…” Beakley shook them weakly yet firmly, kneeling on the floor. Eventually, they respond from the action.

 

It was Huey being the first who came to, sitting up slowly. “Oh hey, Mrs. B,” he glowered, finally feeling the soreness of falling asleep on the hard wooden floorboards. 

 

The little girl followed after. Webby stretched out her arms, scratched her head feathers and blinked at her grandmother, looking up to her. “Oh, good morning, Granny,” she yawned, smiling at her with delight. The pink bowed duck turned to the blue one, shaking him… a little bit.

 

“Dew. Wake up,” she says and all Dewey replies was a bit of mumbling and one clear “ No.” She then proceeds to Louie, but before she could reach him, the green duck rolled over and turned his back from them. Huey and Webby turned to each other, exchanging unamused glances. 

 

Huey finally stood up, he shaped his hand into a cup, took a deep breath and yelled to Dewey—

 

“DEWEY OH MY GOD! I KNOW WHERE MOM IS!” 

 

“AKHDHSGGWGSGD WHER e—“Dewey quickly stood up as a reflex as he heard something of his mother, and suddenly felt dizzy from standing up too fast, ultimately realizing… “Ow, my back—“

 

“That’s what we get for passing out on the floor. Told you it wasn’t a good idea to stay up all night,” the duckling in red commented.

 

“Well, I’ll start to make preparations downstairs for breakfast, do clean your rooms, and dress up.” Beakley requested, heading out of the room.

 

Meanwhile, Webby had tried multiple nudges to Louie, but alas, he does not wake up. Dewey came around his lazy brother. No, he doesn’t nudge or shove or shake the lazy child. He was going to do only one thing.

 

“Come on. WAKE UP LLEWEL-“ then he got slapped, or at least he blocked it so that meant Louie tried to retaliate physically, but Dewey still won because he was quick enough to predict the attack. 

 

“Don’t call me that,” Louie grumbled, sitting up grumpily. 

 

“Well, Good morning to you too, Louie,” Huey greets his brother with a smirk.

 

As the distant sounds of the children’s light-hearted voices echoed through the hallway, Beakley had found her way downstairs into the kitchen. She found several objects floating, and moving on her own, but the woman isn’t even the least bit startled.

 

“Duckworth,” she says, finally making her presence noticed.

 

Duckworth materialized his corporeal form in front of Beakley, as he’s making it more known that he was there, presenting himself as stuffy as he can be.

 

“Beakley, must I always pick after you?”

 

“Duckworth, I liked it better when you weren’t saying anything,” she grimly remarked, setting up the table before the kids come down. The clanging of pans, scent of bacon, eggs, and french toast permeated the air of the kitchen. The kitchen was brightly and warmly  lit up albeit the sky was darkening as the newscast foretold it to be. The calm, dreamy atmosphere was slightly disturbed by the steps of a certain child coming from the hallway; from the sounds of it, the child had tried to

 

“Um… Beakley?” Louie, the lazy child who never sounded so worried (especially he’s always the one nonchalant one out of the four), had looked up to Beakley, phone in his hand.

 

Beakley turned slightly to the direction of the voice, and she noticed his clothes still the same as his sleeping garments-- “Louie, I told you to dress-,” then the woman paused suddenly seeing the worried look on his face…”..What is it?”

 

Louie proceeds to show her an online news article on his phone. It was...

 

“Oh, bloody hell,” she roared angrily; as those words left her beak, a fire in her eyes raged and suddenly one thing repeated in her mind over and over:  _ she should’ve kept a closer on him. _

 

The article had leaked one… just one image of the miser. A picture of him on the hospital bed, bandages all over him--somehow was taken. Bentina thought that the hospital was safe enough and good for laying low, but she was wrong. She  _ miscalculated. _ One picture can bring the press to see how vulnerable the old miser is, and all of their eyes would be on him again. Just like… Just like the aftermath of the Spear of Selene.

 

His privacy and safety is at risk. She knew this story all too well (for it happened to her before), frustrated she hasn’t learned from it. Everyone just can’t help to stick their noses on where it doesn’t belong, so they would see him as an object of attention, another story for the press pursued,  not as a person.

 

_ So much for keeping him safe. _

 

“I have to go,” the housekeeper exited the kitchen, on to the garage. Because McDuck’s well-being was on the line again, and if she’s always had his back, she’s not gonna stop now, not when he needs someone the most even if that’s not her. She’s his friend, always has been, even if  he was a hard-headed fool who tended to isolate and carry everything by himself like how it was in the Sunchaser. 

 

There was no point in regretting all the things she’s said to him, nor was it the time to do so, for Beakley there was no time for her to think over her past decisions.

 

If she does not act now, bigger consequences are bound to happen.

 

She rushes in the garage, and shook the sleeping pilot, “Launchpad!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Scrooge and Beakley's relationship, my dudes. Hm,,, but Beakley wouldn't approve of Goldie when she finds out Goldie is in the old man's life again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scrooge receives a warm welcome from the kids <3

It gets pretty surreal when the thing that happens to you are likely seen on dramas or movies, but I guess you can’t really help feeling that way if you snapped to the reality that your own family isn’t normal in society’s standards per se. The McDuck family wasn’t very close to normal. They never were, and never will be. Donald tried to give the boys, something close to a normal life; Beakley tried to give Webby a normal life, but since the kids and the people who raised them were who they are, they couldn’t get to that. It was just so… dull for both parties. Don’t get me wrong but… Scrooge also felt that way despite all his grief towards the disappearance of his niece.

 

_ We’re just a normal, boring family. _

 

_ Normal? Boring? HAH! _

 

So when Scrooge started taking them to adventures, normal or not for a family, they loved everything about it. The risk, the death traps, the lessons learned, the adrenaline of victory against sworn enemies and the treasure at the end of it, of course! It never got old because every adventure was different. (They believed it to be, except it got a little bit old for the Louie quickly.)

 

Scrooge was the most exciting thing they ever had in their lives, and he felt that way towards the kids too. He stopped adventuring altogether… completely after Shadow War. Long enough, their stories became more complicated than that and honestly, they need to deal with it whether they liked it or not.

 

The sky darkened, and its tears dripped and dropped on the roof of the mansion. The mansion welcomed it yet, it felt too much. It was pouring out so much, it was an unusual day in Duckburg. Standing, butterflies in their stomachs, the kids were anxious as they see their Uncle on the television as he is being badgered live by many news anchors from multiple networks, especially the local news. Beakley is then shown in the footage, as she escorts the old man to the limo Launchpad is always seen to be driving. 

 

The old man, even if it was for a split second, looked like he was unfamiliar with the situation, so he worriedly looks and shift his eyes all over the place. Scrooge doesn’t say anything for he has nothing to… remember to say. She tells the anchors to back off, and mind their own business; the widower pushed him into his seat firmly but carefully then the car moved onto the direction to the house on top of the hill, McDuck Manor.

 

The children were uneasy, waiting for the ringer, just to get the gate open for them. Huey is seen to be fidgety, a red ball of anxiety at this point. His hands kept on moving, twiddling around his fingers in and out. Dewey was found to be pacing in a circle, a habit he’s picked up from his Uncle Scrooge when thinking— and overthinking as well. Additionally, Louie may look calm and in control, but he isn’t, he lightly taps one of his webbed feet into a steady rhythm, allowing him to relieve his stress at the moment. The kid in the hoodie tries to look fine but since he’s been with his brothers ever since they were eggs, everyone knew they weren’t at that state.

 

Webby was sitting down, in a daze, staring at the ceiling. She often does that, but not to this extent. The little girl had tuned everyone out, including Lena. She’s in her own world until—

 

_ Ding dong. _

 

They all stood there motionless, looking at each other. It was like a darkness struck their hearts, and the children just wanted someone to turn on the light. 

 

The speaker spoke, with Beakley’s voice: “Kids, it’s us. Will you please open the gates _?” _

 

At long last, Louie approached the speaker, expressing exhaustion; fists clenched with such tenacity as if he was holding onto something very dear. He no longer wanted the continuance of whatever this was.

 

Louie just wanted to get it over with and pressed the button, he cleared his throat, and said, “Is… the old miser okay?”

 

A distant audible comment from Scrooge was heard in response, “Lad, I’m fine as is. I mebbe have (fatal) injuries, but I’m not some helpless old man who needs some worrying from youngins like ye.”

 

“Awwww,” Louie smirked at that, suddenly shifting his tone into a mischievous one, “So you’re not denying you’re old?”

 

The three widened their eyes to what Louie said suddenly snapping out of their anxiety. The tension in the room is suddenly lifting up.

 

“... Oh… shut yer trap, Louie,” the old man sounded insulted, but Louie have pictured him chuckling too.

 

“Wow! You can tell which triplet I am too! With just my voice! Your amnesia’s got cool side effects!” Louie darkly referenced his state, in a humorous way.

 

“Oi! Don’t be too full of yourself, ya wee numpty!” Scrooge audibly chortled at the statement.

 

“Hey! You love us! We know! Don’t be shy~”the duck in the hoodie debated, smirking.

 

Huey and Dewey giggled as Webby facepalmed amusingly at their conversation, like the room was suddenly gaining its lost colors of laughter.

 

“As much as I enjoy that both of you are in high spirits,” Beakley replies, not actually sounding amused at all, “Will you boys continue this inside where the press wouldn’t be able to catch up with us?”

 

“Alright, alright!” The kid sighed, from the other end, he finally pressed the button to open the gates.

 

The duckling in green turned around with the charming smirk Louie was known for. Now he can see Webby and his siblings, being well… a little bit of themselves now. 

 

“C’mere you,”Dewey grab ahold of his youngest brother, and gave him a noogie. 

 

“ACk— Stop! This is mUrDEr,” Louie exclaimed, and he was let go afterwards. Louie fixed himself with his mother’s scarf still wrapped around his neck and the ends of it tucked inside his shirt.

 

“Thanks, Louie. I think all of us needed that,”Huey slightly tilted his head, smiled, and chuckled.

 

“Hey, Scrooge might’ve lost his memories but he is still our uncle,” Louie needed to acknowledge that not just to everyone here, but to himself as well, “He’s always trying to keep himself together in front of us (which was blatantly obvious he was failing) so it’s not fair if we fall apart on him now. Feeling sorry would get us nowhere.”

 

“Who are you and what have you done to Louie McDuck? Have you actually changed for the better?” Webby teased.

 

“Now let’s not get our hopes up. I’m still the evil triplet, and always will be.  _ Trademark Louie McDuck.  _ But I’m actually being sincere and… good. Ugh.”

 

“Uh oh,” Huey commented in response.

 

“It’s the end of the world for all of us then,” Dewey dramatically posed, his hand on his face suddenly falling into Louie’s arms. Louie rolled his eyes on him and dropped him.

 

Their banter was suddenly interrupted by the unlocking of a certain door coming from  the front entrance of the house. 

 

“Come on, guys,”Huey invited the rest of the kids, ”Let’s welcome our miserly uncle home.”

 

Beakley opened the door, carefully handling Scrooge, making sure he doesn’t trip as be was  The old miser… didn’t really like that, embarrassed even. And yes he eyed Beakley,  _ Please don’t treat me like this, Bentina.  _ Beakley shook her head,  _ Not risking another unfortunate accident, McDuck. _

 

Scrooge couldn’t remember but he knew it was probably like this around her and he was right about it. He gave up on that and let her be. The damaged miser was still limping due to his sprain, and being discharged weeks earlier than he’s supposed to didn’t help with his pain at all. He only lasted for a few steps till his kin spots him.

 

“Uncle Scrooge!” Dewey leapt and embraced the old miser, causing him to almost lose balance. Painful it may be to maintain his balance; it was worth seeing the kids giving him the warm welcome that he didn’t know that he’s been missing. It was better to have people who genuinely care and know him around other than doctors and nurses.

 

“Aye, lad. Try not to send me back to the hospital. I’m not going anywhere,” Scrooge says reassuringly, resting his hand gently on the blue one’s head feathers. 

 

“Welcome home, Mr. McDuck,” Webby smiles at the duck covered in bandages. All of them were.

 

_ Welcome home _ . A saying he’s forgotten how warm and… scary that was for him.  His heart rekindled with warmth, yet it aches familiarly. Scrooge doesn’t… remember this. He doesn't. He hasn’t. Should he…? Does he…?  He was going to break any second; He felt so frail that he couldn’t carry everything, like a china tea cup with cheap dried up glue. Like an empty porcelain cup being poured on, his emotions were overflowing from it, wanting to empty it… It was all too much.

 

He finally found his voice in the center of it all, afraid and uncertain. But he says it anyway, longing to be apart of who he was once more.

 

_ “I’m home.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's back, and he's home. And he's where he should be.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goldie O'Gilt appears in the mansion, greeted like an old friend..(or more) by our miserly insomniac who can't remember a thing. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE 3.5 K WORDS??????3500+ WORDS of...just...Scrooge and Goldie??? HELL YEAH BB  
> I was scared to write this chapter though, please don't hit me qwq.

The color, red. Red was all he’s seeing. He was…. suffocating, his heart was thumping so hard, it felt like it’s going explode out of his chest. His chest tightened, making it harder to breathe. The walls were just closing in, his world was just falling apart and he didn’t know why, when, how—-he didn’t feel it, numb to it all.

 

There was one thing in his mind, and only one.

 

Red, it flashes rhythmically. Panicked.

 

He was calling someone, waiting for her to respond. The screen glitches, he was trying to get through to her. Tried to call her name, tried to tell her to come back— It wasn’t safe! She needs to go back! She needs to come home! He kept calling her name as the red flashed! 

 

“Della!”—-Finally got through but… all he saw for a split second was her face, distraught and panicked just like him. It was seldom she looked like that. He never saw her like that, not like this. They were never like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Not now! NOT THIS!

 

“Uncle Scrooge—!!”The lass’ voice reached him, and that was all that got through, fearful of what was gonna happen next as she looked into his fretful eyes.

 

Then it all turned black, with nothing but…

 

_ Transmission lost. _

 

“S…”

 

“Scrooge…”

 

“Scrooge!”

 

His eyes snapped open. The old duck woke up in cold sweat. He sat up slowly, trying to compose himself, realizing he was crying. He wiped them away, turning slightly to the direction of the voice of that woke him.

 

There she was, Goldie O’Gilt. A brown trench coat, a white collared shirt tucked under a black maxi skirt was what she was wearing this time. He’s convinced she has a whole wardrobe in her purse somehow. Although, her alluring emerald-like eyes and locks of golden hues still remained the same.

 

“How long have ye been here?” Scrooge looks at Goldie, as she seems to have sat at the left side of the bed for quite awhile.

 

“An hour or two, at most,” Goldie replied.

 

“How did ye get in?”

 

Goldie didn’t answer. She simply pointed at the window. Scrooge turned to that, and he noticed it was unlocked.

“So ye’re telling me… ye’ve been watching me sleep?”

 

“You’re exhausted, and you never sleep. I let you be… besides,”Goldie pulled out a familiar book… his notebook that he’s written in before he lost his memories, “That gave me enough time to finish this so I’m returning it to you.”

 

The old miser grabbed it and stroked its spine. He easily identified who vandalized the cover with stickers, sloppy handwriting in neon sharpies, and a clear picture of the kids clipped.

 

“The kids gave you this, I suppose,” The miser assumed, and he put the book down without opening it, “You didna have to…”

 

“Yeah, I do. It’s yours.”she says, as if she's never stolen anything from Scrooge at all.

 

_ Is it really though?  _ He thought… 

 

“What time is it?” Scrooge shrugged the thought, and changed the subject.

 

Goldie was perceptive enough to catch that but…  something was off again with the miser. Memories lost or not, he’s still bad at lying and pretending after all these years.

 

“It’s 1 in the morning,” she answered anyway.

 

“Ah.” He nodded.

 

_ Something  _ **_is_ ** _ wrong, _ she thought. He was panting in his sleep unsteadily, moving around— He was having a nightmare; she had to wake him up. 

 

But— comfort and words wasn’t a Goldie thing. She always looks like she was trying but she didn’t know shit on how to portray her concerns, her objections… how she genuinely feels. She was Goldie O’Gilt. She lies to get what she wants. She cheats. She’s the Ice Queen of Dawson. For God sake, she’s Glittering Goldie, the Star of the North! And he was Scrooge McDuck. They were both bad at…  _ this _ .

 

But that doesn’t mean she couldn’t try.

 

“I…” Goldie cleared her throat, “How are you holding up?”

 

“Why are ye… asking?” His tone suddenly became defensive.

 

“Is it wrong of me to check up on you?” She retaliated.

 

“I’m…  fine…Just—“

 

Before he could continue his sentence, Goldie suddenly picked Scrooge up and carried him in her arms. 

 

“What the blazes—!?”

 

“Huh. You’re lighter that I thought. Have you been eating?”

 

“Stop, and put me down, Goldie!”

 

“Shhh… It’s late and you don’t want your family to- Wait, why are you wearing your… brooch and spats to bed? You know you’re supposed to wear that like this right?”

 

“G—I… may or may not have passed out right after Louie tried to beat me in Scroogeopoly, and I, of course, won and went upst— wait.”

 

“And here I thought you lost your common sense along with your memories.”

 

“Just because I forget one thing disna make me an idiot,” Scrooge argued, if he could cross his arms, he would.

 

“You’re still  **_my_ ** idiot,” she casually commented, as she was heading to the bathroom, with him in her arms. Scrooge’s face blushed, and buried his face onto her blonde hair. His cheeks were so red, you’d never think it was even possible since he was all covered in feathers.

 

The bathroom was accented with white and gold, and its floor was tile. The tub and shower were separate yet close. As Goldie purposely hit her elbow on the switch, a yellowish light filled the room, causing it to be colored a warm atmosphere.

 

Then it finally occurred to him, where they were going… all he could ask right now was:

 

“Why are we—“

 

“Because you reek and you hadn’t had a proper bath for awhile,”she hummed.

 

“What,” Scrooge blinked.

 

“And I’m going to help you with that.”

 

“Wha- waiT, NO! YOU’RE NOT!” he finally caught on, “I dinna need your help on this! I can do it by myself!”

 

“Can you move your broken right wing and your sprained ankle without being in a tremendous amount of pain?” the lass with golden locks asked.

 

Scrooge didn’t answer which meant it was a no.

 

“Exactly. I rest my case.”

 

“I dinna need you to do this.”

 

“Reject me again, and I’ll drop you.” She threatened… wait, this used to be the other way around, suddenly registered what she said out loud.

 

If he says, ‘Do it, you won’t,’ Goldie is gonna lose it.

 

“Do it, you won’t.” he taunted her after, and she officially just fucking lost her shit. He got her. This got to her. That was decades ago, that conversation. Funny, how the tables have turned in the 21st century, and he  _ doesn’t even  _ remember it.

 

“I— Fine, you got me, I love you too much to do that,” she admitted, bitterly, lovely… hinting at the nostalgia. 

 

He… didn’t think that through and expected an answer… Especially, tHAT answer. So all he could do was accept his fate but then… he was gently put down by the middle-aged woman.

 

“But I’m still going to help you.”

 

“Stubborn, aren’t ye.” he sighed, finally surrendering.

 

“I’m your old flame for a reason, McDuck,” Goldie states,” It may also be a good idea if you undress while i prepare the water for you, darling.”

 

“I’m not gonna— not in front—“he says, as he was removing his spats…. contradictory, she knew.

 

“We have feathers that cover up EVERYTHING. You rarely even wear any pants!” she turns on the faucet, adjusting it to warm temperature.

 

“That’s different, O’Gilt! And ye know it!”

 

“If it helps, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you na-“

 

“STOP, That’s too much information, woman! Fine! I’ll. I’ll just,” He starts… unbuttoning his shirt slowly.  Goldie… came near to the old miser, clearly composed. The old man may have become embarrassed and got a bit clumsy, and finally letting the lady lead on this one as she shook her head, chuckling.  She began to disrobe Scrooge. She took his teal brooch outlined with fool’s gold, and put it aside on the counter. The lass’s grip on his sleeve as it was being removed from his left arm was firm yet careful, letting Scrooge feel the least pain in the moment.

 

When the left sleeve came off, Goldie got the chance to see his… injuries, the damage she couldn’t see in the hospital. At the left part at the bottom of his ribs, was a stitches, bandages and patches all over it. Maybe a few of his ribs may have been broken? She unraveled them gently, trying not to remove any of his feathers.

 

The bruises across his body were not as visible due to the miser’s feathers, but it was still evident on his skin. They were very… severe. No wonder the doctors upped his pain meds a few times. 

 

She also noticed his old scars from his sourdough days. They were mostly healed and fading… but she was around when he got those. Some Dawson thugs tried to rough him up to show him his place. Of course, they failed. And that, of course, was the moment before Scrooge took her to his claim— 

 

_ Wait, no! This is not the time for reminiscing old times! You’re not a sentimental old fool like the King of the Klondike. Get it together, Glittering Goldie! _ Goldie shook her head to have it off her mind. 

 

She removed his arm sling and the remaining sleeve, mindful of his broken right wing..only for it to reveal a dangerous amount of bruises too. His wing was still supported by a splint, she definitely left that on him. He’s not supposed to take that off, and Goldie knew that because she was very attentive when the doctors spoke when she was around. Goldie O’Gilt may not be the most caring, loving, and gentle creature… but she is… very capable of being one, if only she wasn’t as stubborn as her ex-everything.

 

The woman assisted him into the tub as it was filling with water half-way. Goldie folded her sleeves and got into position. As soon as his legs touched the water and sat… resentfully, Goldie grabbed the shampoo from the shower, applied them on both hands and started digging her fingers onto his scalp. She forgot how… soft and fluffy his feathers were.

 

Her gentle touch consumed his thoughts, calming him. It’s familiar yet it was not. Has she done this to him before? She continued to massage his head… as the shampoo soaked on his head and her fingers.

 

“Goldie…” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“I don’t… know what to do.”

 

_ What? _

 

“You just sit there, and I do all the work…” Goldie panicked and said something she didn’t plan to, then continued what she was doing.

 

“That’s—,” he paused and laughed as he caught that she panicked, “That’s not what I meant!”

 

“I’m just…”Scrooge sighed heavily, feeling so isolated, “Everything feels too much. I’m just… overwhelmed.”

 

The old man carried on with his rant, “It’s not everyday you lose your memories and wake up as…  _ Scrooge McDuck. _ ”

 

“What in Dismal Downs am I supposed to even do with that?,” He asks this as if it was important then listing off the things he’s heard about himself from his nephew, Dewey…, “I take the kids tae adventures. Oh, tatter me tartan! I’m not just rich. I’m the Richest Duck in the world. I apparently run a huge company that branches around this god-forsaken country. I’m over 100 for some reason, and I have no clue how I’m still alive.”

 

That just clicked for Goldie. Honestly, she’d feel the same if she forgot who she was then find out the person who she is.

 

“... Don’t… Don’t take it all at once. You’re a very complicated and  _ difficult _ man, moneybags. Especially when you’re over a hundred. Things were simpler back then, but the world had to go against us—,” she paused and coughed, “...against  **you** . Nothing we can do but press onward. Just… take your time with adjusting. Putting that aside, you’re turning 152 this year by the way.”

 

“I…. and when I thought ye were being serious and sincere, you just—Wait, how old are ye if I’m that age?”

 

“You don’t ask a woman that question, tightwad.”

 

Scrooge turns around, no matter how much pain it physically brought him and glared at Goldie. She eventually broke.

 

“Alright, fine. I’m 147 or some shit like that.”

 

“3 year gap… between us huh. Thought you were…”

 

“Don’t be fooled. Just drank from the fountain of youth a couple of years ago.”

 

“Huh.” He nodded, taking that piece of information.

 

Without warning, Goldie takes a bucket of water and pours it on his head. Scrooge shivered as it was… cold water running down his bare back. She poured cold water on the old man while on a  _ hot _ bath, so he might as well go back to that wretched glacier and get stuck there.

 

“Sorry,” she smiled, and giggled, looking innocent.

 

Scrooge splashed the water from the tub and aimed at Goldie, scowling. Her locks and her outfit were drenched from it, she was about to retaliate but instead...

 

“...Ok, sure. Scrooge, but you owe me a new outfit—” Goldie jested, accepting defeat. She’s done worse to him, and she knew deserved this.

 

They resumed talking, just keeping it to themselves. Learning more about each other, mostly Scrooge learning about himself and his relationship with Goldie…. well— how Goldie is by picking up her way of speaking, and her playfulness.

 

What Scrooge couldn’t determine about her… was that warm feeling that still retained from the first time he’s met her in this state. It was confusing him till this day. He knew she felt important to him, but he was hurt too, hurt when he’s around her? 

 

Scrooge couldn’t explain how or why, it was just there. She’s his… whatever— no one can really put it in one word; no one probably has a term to fit her either. (Ex-everything seems a bit too much.) He felt anger, bitterness, and paranoia towards the lass for things he couldn’t remember, but Goldie was just… something else and he couldn’t explain it. He was in love with her, maybe that was a plausible explanation. Is he still in love with—- no, but he continues to trust her, no matter how much it contradicts his feelings.

 

After many attempts of… being as careful as humanly possible with handling this frail old man, she finally had finished . She left some newer bandages and gauze on the counter to replace his old ones. Although, she had to step out afterwards because Scrooge needed time to himself in the bath, and well he insisted he can dress himself now.

 

The woman managed to slip into her nightgown before Scrooge came out of the bathroom. She put her drenched clothes into a section of her purse where it will make her things not become wet and dries 10 times faster, praising herself for learning some magic spells that were convenient to her. She also took a robe she’s stolen from a hotel she checked out recently, and wore that too.

 

‘ _ I don’t know what to do _ ,’Goldie clinged to what the miser said. He doesn’t know what to do. For the first time, she heard those words come from him. For the first time in his life, he just didn’t know what to do. Goldie knew of his objective, to work so he could send money back to his family, then it was to get his hands on treasure as much as he can find, now— it’s…. a lot of things.

 

He already fell apart.

 

He already broke.

 

What more could you possibly do?

 

What more could  _ she _ possibly do?

 

“What am I supposed to do with that?” She repeats his question out loud, feeling the same thing as him. Goldie proceeds to lay on his bed. It was too huge, and spacious for one person, despite that, the area never felt unwelcoming to her at all. It was like greeting an old friend. His scent still lingered on the covers… It somehow made her feel lonely. 

 

_ ‘Are you happy like this, Goldie?’ _ that line resurfaced as she continued to think.

 

“Tch. Scrooge, can you not?” the lass complained to herself out loud.

 

“What now?” The door creaked, as light from the bathroom turned off.

 

“Nothing. Just mumbling to myself.”

 

“...So,”Scrooge noticed her change in her clothes, “You’re staying here?”

 

“Mmhm,” she responded, not moving a muscle.

 

“You’re…  _ sleeping _ here?”

 

“Don’t make it a big deal… Moneybags. I’m sleeping  _ beside _ you, unless you mind…?”

 

“I… No, I don’t mind— as long as ye don’t kick me in me shin,” Scrooge joined Goldie on the bed, but… kept his distance and turned the other way, trying to hide his… blushing.

 

“I’ll be out in the morning anyway.”

 

“I… see,”his words sounding… tired. Scrooge didn’t turn back… he didn’t know what else he was expecting or hoping for anyway, but a familiar ache suddenly overcame him when she said that. 

 

“..Scroogie,” she called out, looking at his back… “How much do you even remember?”

 

He didn’t respond right away… but… “... Just bits and pieces.”

 

“Sounds cryptic.”

 

“I remember ye, but not entirely. I remember things by… feeling familiar with something. I don’t have anything else. Just stupid words, flashes, and nothing else.”

 

“Well, whatever gave my name away?”

 

“Your… hair--somehow. It’s your stupid hair. I’m not gonna go intae  it, but I think ye know why and I don’t. I have a feeling I dinna want to.”

 

“As I expected from you, it  **was** the damn hair.”

 

“...Do I want tae know why it’s the hair?”

 

“I’ve known you for over a hundred years. Do you really want the answer to that?”

 

“No…Not… Not yet,” Scrooge paused,”maybe it’s best if I find out myself.”

 

“Fair enough.” Goldie knew. She knew this whole time. It’s that lock of hair he always kept. He wasn’t very good at hiding it. That sourdough from the Yukon had the guts to go against a city of thieves, but didn’t have the stomach to tell the Star of the North  what… that was… till they’ve eventually diverged paths, as treasure hunters and adventurers, departing from their old titles as Glittering Goldie and the King of the Klondike to the Ice Queen of Dawson and the World’s Richest Duck.

 

The two remained silent for awhile, waiting for either of them to break it.

 

“I’m… sorry.” They both spoke concurrently, carrying a heavy tone in their words only for them to realize the two said it at the same time.

 

“Wha...What are ye sorry for?” Scrooge asked, concerned.

 

_ Sorry for… _ She could say it.Now was the time, Come on.  She could say it right here, right now. She needs to. She has to-- wait does he even remember that day? Didn’t he say no...memori-- This isn't how it's supposed to go. He doesn’t deserve her falling apart on him-- Not right now. But she needs to say it. Or else…

 

She froze.

 

In the end, like always she couldn’t… talk.

 

Goldie didn’t answer. Instead, she just gently enveloped her arms around Scrooge, not saying a word. The two ducks eventually shared their warmth to each other, both becoming the same temperature. 

 

Words aren’t a thing for the two.

 

“...I,” the tired old miser, after what seemed a very long period of stillness, he disturbed it and… “I’m sorry that things are like--- well… this. And I’m… not even apologizing right, am I? It’s a habit I need to get rid of… Like you’ve always said.”

 

Goldie tightened her embrace, and hid her face on the miser’s back.

 

“We can stay like this if that’s ok with you.”Scrooge reassured the woman, his hand holding hers.

 

“Mm..”It was supposed to be a yes… but he got the message,.”..sorry. Huh-- must've picked up that habit from you too.”

 

“We’re a big mess.”

 

“...You could say that again.”

 

“Heh… I dinna want tae sleep again anyway.”

 

“Careful about that… I know you have a case of insomnia, but you never know…” her voice started to sound quieter as time progressed.

 

“I’ll be… here… If  you get a nightmare again.,” she yawned, now fading from staying awake. Scrooge didn’t say anything about that… but he...felt… somewhat happy, hearing that with the woman he couldn’t fully trust or know. But he finally turned around, slightly startling Goldie. Scrooge clutched onto her in return, and Goldie embraced back… as they drifted to sleep.

 

_ These two lonely hearts, no matter how bitter and lonely they grew, still perceive each other as equals, old flames that were no longer blazing, but still remained, burning weakly. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They needed this, and they need to talk more. These old people need to stop saying sorry tho, they need to let it go. Follow your own advice Goldie, BC both of you are a big mess. But I love both of you anyway. This isn't as heavy (if you don't count that nightmare...that Scrooge clearly doesn't want to bring up.) but yeah ty for reading. love you guys. If you get all the references and look at my stuff religiously,, you have my uwus, hecker.
> 
> My writing also borrows a lot from thehousethatfloats! check her Hearts of Gold series out!  
> So that's why this chapter felt kind of similar. I hope you guys still enjoyed it nonetheless qwq


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bentina Beakley and Goldie O'Gilt have a talk-- well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrting this was rlly fun for me bc I get to expand on insomnia's Goldie more ♥

The wrinkled sheets, warmly enclosed the two as their ruffled feathers, their own heat, and the soft resonance of their breathing kept them asleep next to each other, peacefully so. Goldie’s hair radiated, emphasizing its golden color as the sunlight seeped from the window. Scrooge, still clutching tightly onto the woman, woke up. Side by side they were only accompanied by their warmth, only now Scrooge was still drowsed to process anything. 

 

This isn’t that same old white, blinding ceiling filled with fluorescent lights that mocks him every time he wakes up. The wires, and tubes injecting his body back then were absent. He was now at his own sleeping quarters; with a bed that was within his comfort and Goldie in his arms. However the pain, even if this was a different setting than what Scrooge was accustomed with, still remained but it felt somewhat better than when he was confined.

 

After all, he was just discharged yesterday. Even if he were to be in pain, he prefers it to be right here, right now. Something about this was better than that disconsolate, lonely hospital bed. Goldie O’Gilt, the peculiar lass she was, was probably the one who kept him to his toes, even if he barely remembers her.

 

Without thinking, Scrooge led his damaged right wing to lightly caress the slumbering woman’s face. In such close proximity, there was nothing else he can hear but the calm sounds of her respiration, welcoming him to join her again to sleep. He stretched his fingers to reach her blonde locks, intertwining and separating its strands as he guided his hand to ends of the smoothness and silkiness of it. Goldie’s eyelids twitched to the disturbed stillness, and she eventually opened her round, iridescent eyes to the dumbfounded miser’s face she found adorable.

 

“Good morning, Scroogie,” she hummed, promptly preening his ticklish neck. His messy feathers had gotten neater as Goldie’s beak nuzzled his bruised neck and—

 

“AcK— stop— Haha-Ow!”He laughed, but stopped suddenly as Goldie accidentally applied pressure on some part of his ribs. 

 

“Ah! Sorry,” Goldie removed herself from him, sitting up concerned.

 

“So… what happened tae ‘ _ I’ll be out in the morning _ ’?” the old miser teased.

 

“Aw, darling, it’s not even past 6 in morning,” she replies, getting out of the blanket. Before Scrooge could say anything, Goldie stood up but she turned and looked back, reassuring Scrooge, “Don’t worry, Moneybags. I’m… not leaving today. Go back to sleep, okay?”

 

“...Really? You’ll come back?”

 

“...Yeah… go back to sleep, Scrooge…”

 

“Could… Could you get my pain meds? I left them on the kitchen counter.” His drowsiness finally setting in again, numbing a little of the pain.

 

“Sure, I’ll leave them by the night stand, and… uh Scrooge?”

 

“Mm?”

 

_ I love you.  _ She wanted to say that so bad. But even if it was quick, everything would begin to change. It would change too much. He would change. She would change. The whole world would change.

 

She’s… She isn’t going to risk that. Not like this.

 

“... You need something else?”

 

“...” The old miser seems to have drifted off again. Goldie chuckled, as he seems to have gotten that habit— the ‘old man’ habit of being tired and falling asleep at unpredictable times. Domestic life has turned him soft. Goldie found this side of Scrooge very endearing, even if she… denies it so. She smiles at—-

 

‘ _ NO _ .  _ Goldie, holy fuck. Stop thinking about this. This is only temporary. Only temporary. ONLY TEMPORARY. You’re gonna leave eventually. EVENTUALLY.’ _ This thought repeated in her mind, torturing her as she tried to turn away from this. The woman promptly left the room for some space. She slammed the door shut and sighed heavily, dragging down her back against it.

 

‘ _ Shit. Make up your mind, Goldie. Don’t get attached, my ass _ ,’Goldie found her way to that notion. Is she just that… stubborn? In denial? Is… Is she that  **in love** ? Ugh. Taking care of family, and dealing with people can make you… sentimental, making you lose what really mattered. She never needed Scrooge, especially with how long she’s gone without him. Scrooge wasn’t the one chasing after her anymore, and yet she’s still here.

 

Goldie stood up, fists clenched again, with the horrifying thought of her feelings she tried to bury along with her desire of seeing her kin and being with Scrooge as… something else than she treats the past few decades now coming back, trying to shut it out. Why wasn’t she thinking before she pulls this shit? She didn’t know the answer, she was just… I suppose she wanted to comfort him, or maybe, in a way, it was for her. But that still didn’t give an answer she wanted to here. She was Goldie O’Gilt; She gets what she wants.

 

Thus far, denial was all she was getting, frustrating her even more.

 

The lass started exploring the hallway. The crimson and mahogany walls, accented with gold as usual. It was decorated by maps, various portraits of Scrooge thru the years, and there’s some small graffiti by the kids which they can be scolded for if Beakley ever found out. The mansion’s walls didn’t feel… empty. Not as empty as the time when she ransacked the place, and stuffed the housekeeper and her granddaughter in a closet. In spite of this, the house was welcoming.

 

That was… strange, and terrifying for her.

 

Goldie never knew she would experience this feeling again, for the last few decades. It’s been so long since she felt this way, decades even. She pressed onward to approach the level below her, taking precaution of her steps in the staircase. The woman descended into the hall next to the entrance, finding her way to the kitchen.

 

A tall woman with an enormous square build stood there, an eyebrow raised and arms crossed as if she was expecting the intruder to show up. Goldie stood in between the doorway, not shocked for one bit.

 

She composed herself even more, giving her the Goldie look. The menacing look where you can’t figure out her true intentions, of course.

 

“Not going to pillage my house again, I hope? 53?” The housekepper opened her beak, using a very intimidating tone.

 

The house… stopped feeling welcoming after this, like flipping a switch on Goldie’s instincts. Goldie couldn’t help but play along with that!

 

“My, my. Haven’t heard ‘53’ for awhile, Agent 22. A good morning to you as well. It’s always delightful to see you!” she avoided the question, and put on a tone of playfulness and the usual chaos she often brings with her.

 

“What did you do to Scrooge?”

 

“Hm. You sure are rosebud’s grandmother! That’s for sure!”

 

“If you did something to my partner—“

 

“You are not his partner… at least not anymore, unless I was misinformed, 22.”

 

“...”Beakley remained silent, her defenses are now way up after that comment.

 

“I didn’t do anything to McDuck, well… _ not this time _ . Put me on a truth serum or not, this one is not on me, dear Benti~”Goldie moved towards the cupboards, and opened one to get a cup.

 

“Do not call me Benti.”

 

“Tina, it is, then,”she bantered as she followed the direction of the brewed coffee scent. 

 

“What is it with you and aggravating people?”

 

“ **Oh no** , are you saying I  _ shouldn’t _ aggravate people?” Goldie gasped sarcastically.

 

“I’m saying is that you shouldn’t pop up in places where nobody wants you,” Beakley roughly exclaimed, raising her voice and filled the kitchen’s ambience.

 

“Do I look like care about what people want?”

 

“You care about what McDuck wants.”

 

“...”

 

“He’s a clueless yet reckless idiot and he’s all over you,  _ again _ . When he’s had the chance to forget you, you come back into his life like some—-“

 

“So what? Let him be an idiot.” She cuts her off, stirring the conversation away.

 

“I say you’re taking advantage of the fact that he lost his memories.”

 

“Oh, I see! Hm~ Interesting hypothesis, as always, 22! Very lovely!”Goldie nodded, poured coffee into her cup, then took a loud obnoxious long sip from it, without the slightest hint of shame.

 

“What are you even doing these days aside from stealing and betraying people’s trust?”

 

“Oh, it varies from moment to moment, sweetie.”

 

The room never felt so colder, or tense. Like somehow everything dulled its color, losing its vibrancy. It no longer even felt cozy or comfortable here. She caused it, they both thought to each other.

 

Goldie remained, standing her ground and smiling, that oh so devilish smile. A mask she has molded and hardened during the last 100 years, patiently she wears it.

 

“53, I’d have to put you down if you do  _ anything _ that harms him.”

 

“22, It’s not my problem both SHUSH  _ and _ FOWL sees me as a big threat, the same applies to Scroogie, isn’t that the reason we worked there? So you don’t recognize us as another target?”

 

“Who doesn’t see  **you** , of all people, as a big threat is bloody insane.”

 

“By your logic, let’s say I really am! But humor me, is the great Scrooge McDuck not a big threat to either agencies?”

 

“...”

 

“See?”

 

“That still doesn’t concern you.”

 

“I suppose it doesn’t, Tina. But it’s everything to him even if you don’t try to consider that. So next time you say something to me like you obviously  know everything about me, think about every word you utter to me.”

 

“Then what are you here for?”

 

“Not much. Don’t really have any schemes, heists, or plans to overthrow a government. No interdimensional or magical chaos to cause today either, 22. So you can rest easy about that.” 

 

The younger looking woman shifts her eyes on the paper bag on the kitchen counter, the one that Scrooge had stated it would be there. She moved towards it, peeking inside. There were bottles of pills and prescriptions inside that indicates the instructions to take them. Beakley relaxes a little bit, but she was still tensed up as she was wary of Goldie’s actions.

 

Agent 53.  That wasn’t really her code but she chose those specific numbers herself. Goldie was not only known by her name as ‘Goldie O’Gilt’; she had several name changes and only a few people knew of ‘Goldie’. She was also a freelance operative and had an expertise in cryptoarchaeology (coincidentally but not surprisingly the same as Scrooge) Collecting artifacts, gaining forbidden knowledge of creatures and  ancient magic, and gathering as many international (and interdimensional) contacts were not only what made her dangerous but her prowess as a tactician, and her mastery of thievery too.

 

SHUSH and FOWL kept a very and  _ annoyingly _ close eye on her because of this.

 

Bentina Beakley had tried to read her file, but half of the data was redacted. That’s why whenever she appears or mentioned by McDuck, she couldn’t stand it. She was the one thing she’s not prepared for (unlike all those protocols she memorised and missions she’s read), and that put her on edge.

 

“Well, Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Beakley leaned on the wall, threatening.

 

“Sure, whatever you say, Tina,”Goldie, in her own special way, heeded yet disregarded her warning. She has never intended to hurt Scrooge genuinely, and she lives by that fact. She grabbed the bag and headed out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to the housekeeper behind her back.

 

“Breakfast is at 8, O’Gilt.”

 

“Got it, 22.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scrooge clingyyy?? and sleepy?? goldie preening?? couple where they sleep next to eah other then wakes up happy aesthetic?? mmm yes??
> 
> Agent 53 ---not rlly in the show BUT It's a small reference to when Goldie first debuted in the history of all Uncle Scrooge's comics, 1953! Back to the Klondike was first published on that year so,,,YEAH 
> 
> Also wondered about those days in between her Dawson days and her treasure hunting days? So I went with the, "hey lmao if she joined SHUSH that would be so cool. but she's not the type of person abide by the rules at all so something put her there." so here we have my own canon of Goldie now. I hope I get to write more Agent 53 adventures. This Goldie is really chaotic neutral. And if she puts Scrooge on edge, then Beakley is bound to be on edge bc of the 53 thing and how Golden Lagoon episode happened so :) see ya guys next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scrooge writes letters about to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Evan Hansen-- No, wait. That's wrong. Not one of my best chapters but I tried something new! Warning tho: this chapter goes 0-100 rl quick.

     Dear Scrooge McDuck?

 

    I’ve been told to write letters to myself as I was instructed by my doctors. They’ve suggested that it is supposed to be… ”therapeutic”. But if I were to put my honest opinion on the matter, I would say it’s rubbish and I must say writing with my left hand is already difficult as is. On the other hand, there is nowhere else I could put my thoughts. I lament the fact that I keep depending on Goldie for everything- I cannot keep on relying on my family for all of my worries, and concerns. So I’ve resorted to…this.

 

    As of today, I am still adapting to my lifestyle, Scrooge McDuck’s lifestyle, to be exact. It has been a couple of days since I’ve come home. From what I’ve observed, the kids usually keep to themselves as they’ve always been as they’ve also described and given me the impression that I also did the exact thing before I’ve stumbled upon my… situation as an amnesiac.  With what my kin has been giving me and the many tales of my great nephew, Dewey..? (If I’m even spelling that right… Arguably, I’d say what kind of name is that, but then again, my name had to be Scrooge.), I was a very peculiar man. I’m known for several things and hold various titles, the most famous one is being the World’s Richest Duck. I live in a huge pretentious mansion with my family on top of a hill at the centre of a city I APPARENTLY own. My nephew, Donald Duck, lives in my pool (in a houseboat). I have a trustworthy undead butler that pops in and out, and a driver/pilot who crashes every vehicle he’s in for some reason which I’m very convinced it has a long story too.

 

In my residence, I also have a housekeeper whose name is Bentina Beakley. It has come to my attention that she and I also share some history together that dates back to decades I cannot recall, but I have felt that I can trust her for having my back. I have witnessed her concern back at the hospital, impatient as she was with the hospital staff for having that picture leaked without my knowledge; the woman made sure I was safe until my arrival to the mansion. She introduced herself as my bodyguard as well and some of her background to me when we were partners of some sorts back in my past. She could not say more about that, and stated that she isn’t permitted to say any of that. I could still feel that she cares about my well-being fondly, much like how Goldie does, in a way. Mrs. Beakley and Goldie, however, do not get along at all.

 

Or at least, that’s how it looks like. More likely Beakley can’t stand Goldie’s presence. I could understand why. Goldie O’Gilt, my supposed old flame, has a certain type of… must I say? “playfulness”? “erratic behaviour”? “defiance”? That lass is certainly not for everybody. I’ve seen it first-hand, but I suppose it’s one of her charms. She’s just that way. It could be frustrating. She could be frustrating, but the lady is capable of understanding my predicament and… in a way, me. I am uncertain of how to feel about it, about her, but I’ve decided to trust her, even if all of the bits and pieces I remember screams to not do that. I do not think I have much of a choice. She’s here, when it suggests that she never was before this point. That woman is a walking question mark, if I do say so myself. Even if that were true, I’ve become fond of her… company for the past week. I’d hate to see Aurum leave.

 

I hope to learn more of her and this family, no matter how complicated and strange I may be. They are trying their best and have been helping me feel at home, and I wish I could return the favor to them someday. I hope I live up to who Scrooge McDuck was before all of this.

 

You are more than a name, Scrooge McDuck. You can do this, and you’ll be better than he ever was.

 

Sincerely, Me.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Dear Scrooge McDuck,

 

I guess I’m writing another one of these. My days at the house are becoming less entertaining since I cannot leave my residence due to my condition. The press still hasn’t given up on trying to interview me, and I’m not in a state that is suitable for that. To be frank, I’ve considered that I’m writing these letters wrong, and they’re coming out as entries for a journal instead, but I’ll keep at it.

 

The kids: Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webbigail. They are all different if you probably squint hard enough. The boys are my great nephews on my sister Hortense’s side, while that wee lass, Webbigail is actually Beakley’s granddaughter. I’ve distinguished that they are also color-coded. Huey is red. Dewey is blue. Louie is green. Webbigail is pink. These kids differ in many of their skill sets since I’ve re-read that failure of an autobiography I tried to write several months ago, which I was very much full of myself while I was writing that. If the kids didn’t try to “fact-check” the entire thing, I would actually believe the tall tales that I wrote myself. I am grateful to the kids, for I didn’t get to my warp myself into this ‘perfect’ man who can achieve EVERYTHING and always do it by myself.

 

I am not sure about Chapter 7 though, it was a chapter about mostly…Goldie. I need to ask her if I was just that dumb and just tried to “share” the damn liquid gold and LEFT it with her and one of my sworn enemies.

 

Putting that aside, here’s what I’ve learned so far about the children (from what I can gather from the book and what I’ve observed ever since I’ve arrived.) The red one, Huey, always wears a hat. That hat never leaves his head, but when it does, it’s when he’s pulling out a book. Huey is apart of what they call the Junior Woodchucks, and he owns a Woodchuck Guidebook. He says that he can add to it when it’s not in the guidebook. It’s more like a journal, if you ask me. I would say he’s being a little bit dependent on that book, but it seems like it’s what comforts the lad so I decided it was best to not say anything about the matter. The lad is very smart and resourceful albeit the obsession with that book. I have a feeling he’s willing to put himself in danger for his kin when it is necessary.

 

Dewey, the blue one, and the one who calmed me down after I woke up at the hospital, is the middle child of the three. His attire— well all of them are wearing something different when I came home. Dewey was wearing goggles that were too big for him and a beige jacket resembling Launchpad’s, or at least a pilot’s. Dewey is a brave and an adventurous young lad, but his brashness might sometimes get the best of him. The child does things without thinking.  From what I can piece together, I’m afraid that it’s highly probable that trait came from me. But as of right now, Dewey is the one that I’m closest to out of the four.

 

Louie, the green one, is a mischievous and lazy young child. He has a sharp tongue, resembling Goldie’s nature. That child seems to pull acts of devilry everywhere I go. He plays innocent everytime, he’s accused of something AND always managed to get away with everything, maybe because he’s the youngest of the triplets. He’s obsessed with money, another trait I suspect passed down to him from me. He always appears to be lazy although, something about him meets more than just the eye. He’s far more capable of looking thru outcomes, and possibilities but he’s just so lazy and seems to be always tired. I would say something to get him off the living room couch, but I’ve been feeling the same way of being exhausted all the time. So sometimes I join him during those hours. I’ve… started to understand how the child is, even if it’s a little bit.

 

Going back to their attires, I’ve asked Dewey alone why the sudden change. Huey was wearing an aviator’s cap that was too big for him, and Louie was wearing a blue scarf that covered almost half of his face. Dewey had hesitated to give me a reply, nonetheless provided me an answer.

 

The young lad told me these belonged to their mother, Della Duck. I have not seen her or heard of her. I don’t recall seeing her as one of the mansion’s residents either. She was nowhere, and I had no knowledge of her. I’ve noticed Dewey did not like the topic. I did not press any further after that.

 

~~I hope to confirm that my suspicions aren’t true.~~

 

Sincerely, Me.

  


* * *

  
  


Dear Scrooge McDuck,

 

This is actually Goldie O'Gilt taking over now. Scrooge found an aged bottle of Scotch whiskey in the pantry and he said if he’s so Scottish he would be able to handle chugging it down. So now he’s drunk crying on me and practically begged that he should write a“letter” So… here I am writing the letter for this old fool. I haven’t written with a pen and paper for more than 50 years so this should be good practice for me. So from here on out, it is him who is talking.

 

“My family has been very good to me. Goldie has been good to me. They’re doing so much for me, I don’t think I deserve this. I didn’t do anything to deserve this. After everything I put them through-“ Alright, you know fucking what. I’m not writing more of your sentimental rants old man. This should be specifically addressed to you now.

 

Scrooge, don’t ever say that you don’t deserve to be happy. You deserve all of the treasures in the whole universe, darling. Your situation shouldn’t be blamed on you. None of what’s happening is your fault, although chugging that bottle was kind of a mistake. ~~You’re not even supposed to drink alcohol with how you are right now. Luckily, the kids didn’t witness you do this.~~ But even with your flaws, your shortcomings, you are loved so much more than you know. I admit I can’t say this to you in real life even though you’re present while I am writing this. But when you do wake up from your hangover, always know that your family is here for you.

 

They’re here for you, and they’re just waiting for you to come around when you feel ready. the Please don’t be too hard on yourself. I sincerely hope you’ve come to your senses to that.

 

Love, Goldie

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Dear Scrooge McDuck,

 

I made a terrible mistake of letting Goldie in the study, and letting her get into the letters… a little. In the contrary, I’ve found some peace and reassurance in what she wrote to me. Now that she’s probably reading these and knows where the letters are stashed since she has a knack of snooping around, I’ll keep writing to prove that I have nothing here that’s worth the trouble. These are for me only, but Goldie, if you’re reading this, (AND YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO), thank you for writing the previous letter. Now don’t read any further, dear.

 

The other day I’ve managed to talk with my nephew, Donald. Like everyone in the house, he didn’t really know how to approach on… that.. Donald is a different case per se. He’s more… detached from me unlike how close I am with my great nephews. As I’ve been told by the blue one, ~~he’s responsible--- I~~ ’m given the impression that I’ve done something in the past and that caused him to take them away as unhatched eggs. I have a haunting feeling this is connected to his sister and the mother of the three., Della Duck.

 

Of course, I couldn’t just bring that up out of the blue for the young man; I haven’t gone that daft as to suddenly ask, “Why, Good morning to ye! Lad! Am I responsible to why your twin sister is nowhere tae be found here or is it just me?” I guess as a start, I've only had a little bit of small talk with him. He didn’t seem annoyed my presence, at least… Curse me kilts, as the world’s greatest adventurer, why aren’t you capable of talking to your own family normally? Scrooge McDuck, if you really are the hero of every story of every treasure you have found, why is this the state of your own family? ~~What is it with the walls you’ve put up, the walls that imprisoned and isolated you where no one can reach you and why am I… Why am I resorting to your ways all over again? I’m sorry. I felt sorry every time. I couldn’t help it.~~ Donald, like Louie, was perspective enough to know what I was trying to do. I need not to say anything after that. But he reassured me I’ve done nothing wrong.

 

If that were true, why do I still feel the opposite way?

 

Sincerely, Me

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Scrooge McDuck,

 

    It’s another day. This is getting repetitive, but I’ve learned more of Webby today. I spent the entire day with her for once. You should do that more often.

 

    Webbigail Vanderquack, or mostly known as Webby! That wee lass is as bright and as adventurous as the boys. She is not willing to back down from a fight, I can give you that. I paid her a visit today, and she said I barely step foot in her room so this was something new. Like Dewey, she’s shown me and told me of the things that she loved from our adventures even if I don’t remember them clearly. I still love listening to both. I’ve found it endearing of the way she’d go off and ramble about certain things. I’ve discovered- well, rediscovered the things Webby likes and what she does in the house. Her favorite color is obviously pink. Her favorite death trap is a spike pit. In her words, the little girl wants to be an explorer like me. She likes researching everything about me as a hobby. She says she’s been doing it her whole life, now I know that I’m an interesting…’subject’, but how could a young girl like her still find this poor old sorry has-been that was more trouble than it’s worth so interesting?

 

She was all-around fascinating. The girl had built a conspiracy board about me, with what little information she had in the mansion. She also mentioned that she’s been living here and cooped up that same way I am right now. She and I never really talked that much till at one point, when Beakley went missing months before my brain injury. That was then, I remembered… did she always call me ‘Mr. McDuck’? Her face lit up to the suggestion, and forcefully held back her tears. She replied, “No, after we got Granny back, You let call me you ‘Uncle Scrooge’, and I let you call me Webby instead of Webbigail.”

 

At some point, it clicked to me. I did something again to make her revert back to calling me Mr. McDuck. This is one of the faults of the past me, and losing my memories put the lass and myself even further from each other.

 

I don’t want that for her. I don’t want to take that from her too.

 

We both stood there, waiting for the other to say something. So I finally said something, even if it took all of my willpower to do so. I refuse to go down the same path as I did before.

 

I told the lass that I didn’t mind if she called me Uncle Scrooge again.

 

You should’ve seen her face, she was beyond happy when I said that. She squeezed me afterwards, nearly choking me but I felt the same way about her. She introduced herself again to me now, “Hi, I’m Webby.”

 

Webby Vanderquack, if you’re also reading this, since you also have the same flair of exploring the mansion and being a stickybeak like Goldie, (also convinced that you’ve memorized every crook and cranny of McDuck Manor like it’s the McDuck family tree), just know that you never disappointed me and know that I’m proud to have raised you even if I was mostly absent in your life.

 

You can do this, Scrooge McDuck.

 

Sincerely, Me

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Dear Uncle Scrooge,

 

I offer to you my humblest apologies, because I couldn’t help but look through your things and sneaking this letter in between your files now. So Hi! I’m Webby! I love you!

 

You’re doing great, Uncle Scrooge. And yes! You ARE WORTH THE TROUBLE! You’re Scrooge McDuck! Who doesn’t get amazed by you needs to get their EVERYTHING checked!

 

I’m proud of you too. I love you and I mean that! You need to talk to Donald and the boys more! I’m sure they’ll love that, they just don’t know how to say it since they’re just like you. I’ll help you if you’d like!

 

Best wishes, Webby <3

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Scrooge McDuck,

 

This is… a different letter from what I usually write. I’m…beginning to feel more exhausted as the week passes. I don’t know what this is. I don’t want to understand what this is.

 

I feel off. Something’s wrong. ~~I’m too… happy.~~ It’s not that something is actually wrong. But it’s the impending feeling of something WILL go wrong, and I’m uncertain about everything I’m doing right now. This life, these people, Goldie—— it’s too good to be true.

 

Am I supposed to be here?

 

-Me

* * *

 

Dear Scrooge McDuck,

 

I knew it.

 

I knew it. I knew it.

 

So that’s why. That’s why everything felt this way. I found out about the S

 

* * *

 

 

Drops landed on the paper.

 

His hand halted in motion, in tears. His eyes had turned puffy, and sore from it. He couldn’t feel it anymore, and he couldn’t stop it. These tears weren’t his, it was the man he was before everything fell to ruin. It was unknown to him. He doesn’t remember how much. How much of this mattered to him.

He quietly sobs trying to move, trying to shake it off, trying to distract himself. It doesn’t work.

He crumpled the paper, and clicked the pen back, throwing it somewhere out of rage.

He couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened and his stomach felt it was mixed up as some sick joke, leaving him highly strung.  He gasped, and gasped, as if his life was depending on it. Terrified, his heart starting pounding so fast; it was going rip itself, breaking its own vessels. Too much. It was all too much. Afraid, infuriated, anxious, distraught, and everything else blurred and mashed up together. It was enough to become deranged, enough to lose himself. He couldn’t see or hear anything. Everything collided into contradictions, then all of it had become so overwhelming, so much that it got to the point where everything didn’t matter anymore.

These emotions consumed him all at once, till it left him hollow and numb. His breathing finally calmed, yet it controlled him.

  
No one is going to keep him safe, like how he couldn’t keep anyone safe.

It was easy putting pieces together because he was Scrooge McDuck.

It was easy to find out it was all his fault.

All his fault Della was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, i always write with google docs for every fic i wrote so... I have an alternate link for this chapter, and has the miserly insomniac's handwriting with it!
> 
>  
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CYEYFTtY-kmMa1La3HqqPhkKID-DTJHJuYmvQF-kRUY/edit?usp=sharing


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, Scrooge gives an apology but it ends up with a different outcome than Goldie expected this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY MY UPDATES ARE SLOW :"( BEEN A MONTH,,
> 
> this chapter isn't even long enough to redeem myself ooof,, and i promised i'll write a longer one next chapter and it'll be less,,, uhhh "sad". i love how this one ended though,,

Goldie O’Gilt knew Scrooge would be at his study when she came home late retrieving something, minding her own business. But what she didn’t expect was to find him in that disastrous state.

 

The study was a mess. There were torn crumpled pieces of paper on the floor, and then the insomniac passed out on his desk. It was unlike the old miser to be disorganized.

 

The middle-aged woman exhaled, moving towards the man. She gently shook the man to wake him up. 

 

“Scrooge…darling, this is no place to fall asleep in.”

 

“...I… I cannae do this.”His soft voice broke, sounding so exhausted. He realized he woke up in the same reality, where it’s… this. He didn’t dream. He wasn’t woken up from a dream. There was nothing to dream about.

 

He looked up to Goldie by his side where she stood, finally revealing his… exhaustion. Goldie couldn’t bear looking at him this way again. Something happened again. Something always happens when she’s not around.

 

Goldie glanced at him, and he mirrored it with the same eyes she hasn’t seen up close since the Klondike. That was enough.

 

“Scrooge…”

 

“I’m… sorry.”

 

“No, there’s nothing you should apologize a-”

 

“Sorry. I’m sorry- Sorry,” he started panting, nearly breaking down.

 

Goldie pulled him close, and held him. His head rested on her bosom, silencing the thoughts that clustered in his mind till it was nothing. And it was then, he gave in, involuntarily holding her close to him too. And they remained there for… awhile till the only thing they can hear in the room was the rhythm of their own breathing. His rough gasps fade into soft whimpers, and his breaths become lighter, no longer choking him with each intake, finally matching Goldie’s stable respiration.

 

The miser tightened his embrace over the calm woman. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered under his breath, with such grief, it wasn’t possible to hold back from saying that one last time.

 

“Don’t be.” She gently stroked his hair feathers, cautious of anytime he can hurt him.

 

They were here.

 

Just here even if only a moment.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She sets a kettle on the stove top, turning the knob.

 

“Not… today, Aurum,” The insomniac sat there, wrapped around a wool blanket Goldie made him wear. His brooch set aside, and his collar was loosened.

 

“Hm. You wanna hear what I did today?”

 

Scrooge smiled to the gesture, and she accepted that as a yes.

 

“I went to France via teleportation spell. Picking up some delicacies, and…” she paused and let out a short wicked cackle, “met some…  friends.”

 

“I better not see any bodies buried on my property, Goldie.”

 

“How endearing of you. Don’t worry I didn’t do anything of that sort… at least for today.”

 

“So what were ye doing in France? or— wait you’re capable of magic too?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is this from the pile that I dinna know or dinna remember?”

 

“You would definitely not remember…”

 

“Ah-“

 

“-what you didn’t know.”

 

“...Seems like ye have a lot of things ye have never told me, I presume.”

 

“There were… a lot of times you’ve avoided me in this century. In all honesty, we were not of the best terms before… this. And the two of us aren’t really the best at communicating.”

 

“...”

 

“Don’t give me that look. I know I’m not wrong.”

 

“I’m not giving you a look,” he says as he directs his eyes to something else.

 

“Alright, fine. What about we start over?”

 

“What now?”

 

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know about...me, but understand I won’t be able to answer every question. Not today but…yeah.”

 

“...I,” Scrooge didn’t object to the idea, and that’s what Goldie thought, he simply nodded afterwards, “...oka-“

 

Goldie swept the miser off his feet again by picking him up like a couple of days ago. Scrooge flinched a little to the sudden movement. 

 

“Oh, is this going tae be an everyday thing now?”

 

“I suppose so. Wouldn’t want the old man falling asleep on the counter and waking up with a stiff neck now, would we?”

 

“I’m afraid not.” Scrooge smiled sadly, but in relief as well.

 

“You’re lighter…”Goldie stated from her observations, as she walked towards the living room where there is a comfy couch, “Did you eat dinner? Took your meds?”

 

“No…I lost track of time and forgot.”

 

“Do you want me to get it for you?” The woman handled the old duck with care and laid him down along with his blanket.

 

“I appreciate it, but I dinna want you tae do that.”

 

“...Alright… but when you eat breakfast later, don’t forget to take them, ok?” the lass kneeled onto his eye level.

 

“Yeah… Thanks, Aurum.”

 

“Are you really—“Goldie got interrupted by the kettle whistling, she stood up, irritated, “I’ll be right back, darling.”

 

Scrooge observed her going back to the kitchen, continuing to lay there. She was about to say something, he thought. Goldie always kept to herself, that was nothing new. The two kept to themselves, and they silently came to an understanding to respect that. What was she trying to…? The duck wasn’t given enough time to think about that due to her return being quicker than he’s estimated. On both of her hands were cups, smoke floating from it, exhausting heat from it.

 

“Tea?”

 

“No… but thank you.”

 

Goldie set the cups on the coffee table in the midst of the room. She sat next to the old man. Their eyes locked once again, and… close as they were with each other, distant was a feeling that remained.

 

The walls they’ve built around them over the years, both were crumbling, only Scrooge was the one who ruined himself first. Those walls were what isolated them from the world, maybe isolated themselves. Why, you wonder? 

 

Maybe it felt safe, comforting? Maybe it was to protect themselves? From the pain of loss? Maybe it saved them, yet still destroying everything they’ve built. It’ll wear down eventually. They both hoped not, still begging someone to break those walls for them.

 

They despise this feeling, the feeling of helplessness and desperation. No, they didn’t need help.

 

He’s Scrooge McDuck.

She’s Goldie O’Gilt.

 

“Are you—“ The woman looked away, “Are you ok with me being here?” 

 

Scrooge’s eyes widened to that, once again caught off guard by her question. What made her say that? Did he say something again?

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“I’m saying is…Do you want me to be here?”

 

“..Of course, I do,” Scrooge says.

 

“I never gave you a reason to trust me,”the lass with blonde locks replied, suddenly distant and cold.

 

“Ye would be surprised to know, you havna given me a reason tae not trust ye.”

 

“Yet.”

 

Scrooge frowned at this. Does she feel like he was trapping her to be here? He didn’t mean for it to be like that. Was she going to hurt him in a way she wouldn’t mean to, at some point? 

 

“I know you’re not going tae to do anything to hurt me but I’m not trying tae keep you here if you—“

 

“No— stop. Stop that. I’m just,”Goldie snapped, finally revealing her conflicted view of the matter.

 

‘ _ I say you’re taking advantage of the fact that he lost his memories _ ,’ that dumb line from Beakley resurfaced, aggravating her even more.

 

“How are you so sure I’m not gonna hurt you again? You’re being so fucking nice to me and why do you even trust someone like me?”She complained to him, or maybe to herself. “I’ve betrayed you for—God knows how many times before this! You don’t even know me- or remember any—“

 

“I dinna need a memory tae know that I’m in love with ye, Aurum.” Scrooge cuts her off with a reality they both knew deep down, finally saying out loud to her with the nickname he held onto even after getting that damn brain injury.

 

This was irrefutably the truth the insomniac acknowledged. Was he supposed to deny and cast away these sentiments of the lady who did not disprove of her previous actions against him? If she wanted to hurt him— If she didn’t want to do anything with him, she would’ve left a long time ago. He would’ve let her go. If he never lost his memories, maybe this conversation would go differently. Maybe they wouldn’t have this conversation at all, but even so, he had to say it.

 

Scrooge McDuck is in love with Goldie O’Gilt.

 

It was simply a fact, both can deny it all they want. 

 

He might not be the Scrooge she knew, or at least that’s what he thinks but the insomniac was still himself. He can’t just invalidate that.

 

Goldie knew it deep down as well, frustrated from all these stupid feelings she’s tried to abandon for a fucking century suddenly flooding back after getting herself attached again.

 

“…Scrooge McDuck, you’re a fucking idiot,” She sighed, completely done with it all, “You know that, right?”

 

_ “Your _ idiot, lass, if I recall, ” the miser referenced it back to a recent memory he can remember, teasing her about it.

 

“You’re really not going to tell me the shit that went down today, huh?” She finally reached to a conclusion ending that banter, embarrassed I suppose.

 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Scrooge brushed it off.

 

“You wouldn’t be falling apart like this if nothing happened, Scroogie.”

 

“I don’t wantae talk about it right now”  the old miser dismisses the topic, raising his voice.

 

“...Ok, then I won’t pry,” Goldie annoyingly remarked, a little hurt from that.

 

Both went silent.

 

“I’m sorry…”He whispered.

 

“It’s fine,” she said. Goldie slowly crept her way to Scrooge under his blanket, poking her head out at the end where his head rested. The woman reached for his spectacles and tossed them over to the table.

 

Goldie leaned towards him, her hands applying pressure to some parts of his bruised chest. Is this the cause of his labored respiration, his elevated heartbeat, or was it the consequence of her this close to him? Their eyes locked once again. He let himself be under her control this time, mesmerized by her eyes.

 

“You’re… not upset?”Scrooge asked, worried and unaware that he said that out loud.

 

“I’m not upset. You clearly are but at something else. That’s okay. It’s okay.” she softly reassured him, her gaze still not wavering. They both remained quiet afterwards, waiting for something to happen. 

 

To the lass, he’s always looked uncertain. That dumbfounded look he always shares to only her even if he doesn’t remember a thing, it was one thing she’s missed. She comes closer to him, smiling. As always, the old man didn’t know what to do, but he didn’t want to distance himself even further from her. In his eyes, he was hers at this moment, belonging only to her. Their beaks pecked, meeting each other slowly.

 

Scrooge winced at this, showing a bit of resistance at first but he eventually surrendered to her. He closed his eyes and grabbed onto her shoulders, gripping her to an extent where she couldn’t escape. Goldie passionately deepened her kiss, feeling his warmth underneath her. They held onto each other as if they were both going to disappear any moment, hoping not to let go. What was just a minute felt like a blissful eternity, the two finally at peace with one another, loving whatever they missed for those 120 years.

 

It was so overpowering, Goldie broke away first. It only left Scrooge to fend for himself, his breathing became shaky afterwards as if Goldie was his oxygen for a moment, longing for her, and her only. He really did love her, wanted her, everything about her just consumed him.

 

Goldie knew that.

 

She knew that, yet it finally hit her. She loves him so, so much. 

 

Goldie was afraid of it flooding back to her, knowing this time she couldn’t escape from it.

 

Tears escaped from her round eyes. She started laughing to hide it, but it overflowed from her uncontrollably. 

 

“...Goldie?”Scrooge called out to her, suddenly worried.

 

“We were supposed to be fucked up together. And well, shit, aren’t we still that? Jesus Christ,” she collapsed on him, still laughing, “I didn’t want to fall apart on you like this after everything you’ve been through, after everything I put you through.”

 

“Goldie..”

 

“God, I fucking missed you. I missed your voice, missed your adorable accent, missed your ruffled feathers that somehow always smells like old coins, heathers and cinnamon for some reason-“

 

“That’s… oddly specific.” the mood lightened, he strokes her hair as she continued to rant.

 

“I just… missed you so, so much, you big dope,”she yells at him, and couldn’t help landing a blow on his chest.

 

“I missed you too, Aurum,” he groaned in pain, smiling at her, “Just- don’t send me back to that bed. You know I hate the hospital’s food.”

 

Goldie giggled, and kissed him on the neck as the miser tightened his arms around her.

 

“I love you,” Scrooge declared softly as if she was the only one who needed to hear this, “...You dinna have tae say it back. I know.”

 

“Oh, Fuck off,”Goldie shrugged that last part off and says it anyway, “I…”

 

…

 

Okay. She tried to say it, but couldn’t. 

 

“I love you too, Goldie,” Scrooge played along,” That’s one thing I’m not sorry for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY SMOOCHED,,, i was rlly embarassed while writing it,,i mean uhhhhhhhh get a wife like (insomniaverse) Goldie who'll take care of you and sleep beside you but can't say the l-word bc she....she just can't. "I missed you" is progress tho :")
> 
> "I love you too, and it's the one thing I'm not sorry for."
> 
> Although, Scrooge smh,, please remember to take ur meds AND TAKE CARE OF URSELF MORE---it's also a reminder for all of u too >:0. take ur meds, eat something, and get enough sleep. ppl love u (smooch)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day Scrooge spent with his nephew Donald before finding out who was responsible for Della’s disappearance. This takes place in between the letters of Chapter 12.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is unlike the others BC IT'S FULL OF COMIC. 60 PAGES OF IT. My writer's block hit hard and so it prompted me to draw this chapter as a comic instead. (i didn't think it would go this far holy HELL)

It was nothing but another normal day where Scrooge McDuck woke up to. Much more tired than usual, but that day he actually had some time of getting some sleep. In fact, there were no nightmares or any worries that kept him awake the night before. It was a good start to the day. He may not be able to go out of the walls of his home due to his condition, but he needed to make the best of it.

There was a pattern the amnesiac had to follow, a pattern he had to recognize and get used to after he got home. Luckily, he was a fast learner. He wakes up, makes his bed, and gets ready for the day. When he goes downstairs, he’ll eat breakfast with his family. Then take his medicine for his condition. His family, well his nephews and niece would debate on such silly things. Donald would be there occasionally, and so was Goldie (but for this day, she wasn’t present as she had some errands she had to run). The usual was always the kids, that was fine. They always were such a delight for him, even if he was just there to listen, then write about something, about himself, about her, about them… about anything.

However, the kids were not present this morning. It was odd. Who would’ve thought this house could even be this quiet?

He looked around the room, before he asked, “Where are the kids?”

Beakley, as always, didn’t disappoint to provide an answer, “The kids went downtown for some leisure activities.”

“Ah, I see…”He looks around again, and he tracked down the scent of the breakfast Beakley made today. The plate had slices of bacon, sunny-side up eggs, and some toast.

“Donald is around somewhere, if you need some company.”

“…Are ye setting me up tae talk to me nephew, 22?”

“…Surprised you’ve remembered that,”the maid replied to him, almost taken aback by that.

“Well, I pick things up very fast as ye know,”Scrooge uttered.

“Well, it would be nice if you do talk to your nephew, Mr. McDuck,” Duckworth joins in the conversation, appearing out of thin air.

“And… good morning tae ye too, Duckworth,” the tired old miser sighed, “Are ye two the only people I allow tae push me around?”

“Yes and no,” Duckworth and Beakley were both in sync for once.

“That—….That disna even make any sense!”

“Aw, Don’t you ‘pick up things very fast’, McDuck?”

“I’m firing both of ye,” He grumpily pointed out.

Beakley chuckled, “No, you’re not.”

“Ugh.”

Scrooge finished his daily dose of coffee, not exceeding from one cup though.. Beakley has limited his “caffeine intakes” in a day. The old man was now known for his caffeine addiction instead of his particularity about how his nutmeg tea should be made before he got his memory wiped, and well, old habits die hard.

Once Beakley noticed his ‘love’ of coffee coming back even after his brain injury, so she made it very clear on what his limits are. At this point, Scrooge doesn’t really have much of a choice but to comply. Who was he to question it?

“Alright, Alright! I’m off tae seeing my dear nephew, then,” he stormed off, taking a piece of toast from one of the plates.

This was another opportunity for the old miser to explore the parts of the mansion this way. It wasn’t a frequent occurrence for him to be in this area. The reason was he never had the need to go around because Donald literally lives in his pool. That part of his home didn’t belong to him.. In fact, Scrooge was nothing more than a stranger in his own home no matter what they did. Everything needed an explanation. And from what he’s heard from the blue one, he had a fall-out with his nephew, Donald.

The pitter-patter of Scrooge’s webbed feet echoed. The gray slates of the floor undisturbed, the waves of the pool strengthened as he proceeded to go near the boat. The boat rocked the waves more as another set of steps decided to sound off, exiting the front door.

“Uncle Scrooge?” Donald called to him, suddenly noticing his uncle’s presence.

This was the second time Scrooge met Donald face to face with the chance to converse with him after he got out of the hospital. The first time didn’t go as smoothly as he hoped it to be. Both were unsure how to approach each other, another pattern Scrooge recognized no matter who he talked to in his residence. Only this time Donald actually has plans of his own today. The old man noticed his outfit was very different from what he usually wore: A blue blazer, a white collared shirt and– is he wearing a tie?

“…Donald, Are ye going somewhere?”

“Uhhh…”Usually, to Scrooge, Donald would answer sarcastically but… he didn’t grab that chance, “I have business somewhere else.”

“Can I come with ye?”

 

 

* * *

 EPILOGUE

Dear Scrooge McDuck,

This is probably the 12th time I'm revising this letter. By "revising", I meant that I've torn the previous letters and kept getting frustrated on how to put things into words. I feel.. better now if that was the impression I've given in the last letter. Hopefully, I can write with a clearer mind now. Thanks to Goldie helping me through that. (WHICH IS ANOTHER SUBJECT FOR ANOTHER LETTER)

It's been a few days since I've discovered how Della Duck "disappeared". I haven't told the family of what I know or remember...yet.

As you can imagine, I was devastated when I found out about what happened to her... in some ways. My selective memory loss did give me some intuition of it, yet it limited me to a lot of things I can't write about yet. It's not as if the news was given to me either. I found out by myself, and I'm glad that I have. It was a very simple puzzle, the only thing I had to do was let the pieces I've been finding to fall into place.

Like the generation now, I had adventured with Della and Donald for as long as I've had them under my wing. I've begun to grasp that Della wanted to go beyond of what our world can provide. She proposed a plan for space exploration, and I can only conclude that I was, in her words, "on her side". It seems that I agreed to my niece's plan, but Donald did not. He thought it was risky especially when the boys were due to hatch.

I built the Spear of Selene, a rocket of Della's design, without neither of the twins knowing. A surprise gift for Della to celebrate their birth. I’m afraid I didn’t hide it enough because she found out and took it for a test run.

I don’t have any proof of what happens next but my falling out with Donald and the boys having a missing mother at this moment, avoiding and feeling uncomfortable whenever asked about her, was enough evidence for me to reach to this conclusion.

She’s...gone.

I had fallen out with Donald not only because of this, but the fact I built the rocket Della had stolen. I was...responsible for taking his sister away. I was responsible for the boys being raised without a mother.

I’m responsible for the Spear of Selene.

Now that I hold this knowledge... I’m glad they weren’t the ones who told me any of these things. I cannot bear the thought to have any of them give this information to me. They’ve already been though so much already, along with me losing my memories, and becoming a burden to them all.

I don’t know

I don’t know where to go from here.

I don’t know how this will end. Maybe at some point, I’ll address the topic of Della Duck, but I don’t even remember her clearly. 

I’m back to square one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for reading this till the end. My updates by the end did get constantly delayed, and got from what I originally planned but, wow, this fic was supposed to be longer and slower paced. Kind of a bit of a slice-of-life thing but there's just too much drama in this family. There were so many loose ends in this fic, but this was the ending that felt fitting for me.I'm writing a sequel and/or a one-shot for this, so don't think Teal (insomnia!scrooge)'s story ends here. 
> 
> There are quite a few people I'd like to thank!! Thanks to jolyn09, iamthehousethatfloats, neopuff, moon_opals, galoots, cannedtins, discord peeps, and amazing followers from tumblr for inspiring me and motivating me to keep on writing. <3

**Author's Note:**

> hello this originally started out as joke but then it turned angsty as you can see from first chapter hghghghg
> 
> but hey check out the other fics (miserabilis and aurum) first in the UCI-verse first, before getting to this. i also recommend looking thru the masterpost i have on tumblr, it constantly updates! so :) 
> 
> https://domiinon.tumblr.com/post/180578210717/insomniascrooge-au-master-post


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